By IMERPUS RELUR
--
Not every language needs lips.
Not every word needs letters.
Some words arrive like rain on dry soil—
Not to be heard, but to be felt.
And now, Auren was ready to give such a word to the world.
---
He stood at the center of his realm, the Garden of the Uncreated blooming around him.
Each flower was a possibility.
Each breeze, a once-erased dream learning how to breathe.
The sky remained bent.
Not from pressure—
but from grace.
And then it came.
Not from outside.
Not even from within.
But from the place in Auren where both met.
A word.
A first word—
yet not bound by sound.
A truth that did not require comprehension.
Only reception.
---
Divine Language Constructed:
> Name: The Welcoming Word
This language is not taught.
It is remembered by any soul who feels they were never meant to belong.
When spoken (or felt), it:
Calms divine conflict.
Allows erased beings to materialize.
Restores lost names, identities, and forgotten truths.
Awakens divine potential in the discarded.
---
Auren raised his hand.
And though he said no word aloud—
the entire world felt it.
A warmth in the chest.
A loosening in the breath.
A pressure behind the eyes.
The feeling of being… seen.
Of being wanted,
not for use,
not for glory,
but for simply being here.
---
Eléa felt it and knelt.
Not from duty, but from overwhelming peace.
The Talenari wept.
The Remnari sang.
Even the Hollow Oracle—far in the realm she had returned to—felt herself becoming whole.
Across divine planes, gods paused.
A few resisted.
Many broke.
Most remembered.
---
System-Wide Notification:
> The Welcoming Word has been born.
Divine conflict is now subject to resonance.
Any god who denies this language risks unraveling by their own rejection.
> All races may now remember their divine possibility.
The "unworthy" no longer exist.
---
Auren felt the Sutra of Infinite Origin pulse inside him.
But now, it was no longer his.
It was seeded across every soul it had touched.
In a child born blind to the gods.
In a dying world's last whisper.
In a monster who never thought they could be more than what they were made to be.
Each now held the right to speak:
> "I welcome you, because I now welcome myself."
---
And in the Garden, a new tree began to rise—
Tall.
Rooted in no soil.
Fed by no sun.
Crowned by a single blossom—
Shaped like a tear.
Auren looked to it and smiled.
Because that tree…
was his final divine form.
Not a weapon.
Not a throne.
Not a storm.
But a place where others could become.
---
And high above,
the Ninth Watcher…
finally closed its unseen eye.
Not in fear.
But in trust.