The Seven Primordial Pillars: Unreality, the Void, Chaos, Death, Conflict, Law, and Identity gradually turned towards silence.
Once raging in the rawness of life, these powers eventually settled into tranquility. In the stillness of an incomplete space, the form of the world began to finally stir. In the depths of the Void, the first form was born.
It was not born from a cold beginning nor from the silence of Unreality. It was shaped after the endings brought by Death, the boundaries defined by Law, and the voice whispered by Identity. Thus, it came to be known as a Greater Pillar.
This existence was woven from the very foundation of the world, carrying the echoes of creation within itself. By the time it materialized, it was already ancient. The first to reveal itself was Time.
It did not declare itself, nor did it shine brightly. It was not a herald of beginnings, it existed to measure.
Time appeared to count the world that had already begun to move. While Law carved structures, Time gave rhythm to that motion.
As events accrued weight amidst the tangled threads of Chaos, Time slowly yet surely pierced through the world, like a blade gradually tearing through the formless space.
In a world that had until now been merely a persistence, before and after came into being. Though it appeared later than the primordial powers, Time quickly became the center of reality.
Next to emerge was Fate.
Fate did not force actions nor dictate outcomes, but simply existed to guide.
With a wheel that spun endlessly and scissors to cut the threads with care, Fate quietly walked through the realm of possibilities.
Its purpose was neither justice nor morality. It was to provide position to events and to choose the threads that should remain.
Then came Darkness. If the Void was completely nothing, Darkness was the existence of something remaining.
It inhabited the space left behind after the flow of Time, collecting lost thoughts, quiet emotions, and forgotten notions.
Darkness was not there to cause harm. It offered a hiding place and provided the comfort of being unseen.
And then, Light appeared.
Light was born not as a counter to Darkness, but as its mirror. The two were born from the same fissure running through the foundation of the world.
Light did not merely shine. It bestowed the very phenomenon of visibility.
It outlined the contours of things, clarified forms, and sometimes even revealed the truth of overexposure. What appeared there was the truth, or the misconceived apparent truth.
As Light and Darkness moved together, a new power emerged. That was Perception, the power to see, to know, and at times, to mislead.
Eventually, Fear returned.
Once an impulse writhing at the bottom of Chaos, Fear now held a clear form. It had evolved.
Pain, loss, and the anxiety of possible events yet to come. Honed by such experiences, Fear no longer needed to assert its existence by force.
Instead, it quietly whispered in one's ear, what if this happens?
And lastly, Dream appeared.
Dream was not an entity seeking freedom by breaking the Law. It was an entity that questioned the very Law itself.
If Law drew boundaries, Dream traced those lines while asking, is this truly necessary?
In the realm of Dream, logic warps or disappears. Stories continue without endings, Time moves forward, pauses, and sometimes flows backward.
Dream did not conform to the old powers. It built its own world, a world born from thought, emotion, and endless possibilities.
However, shadows also fell upon the Dream.
These shadows took form as Nightmare. It was not a separate existence but a reflection of the Dream, merely its backside.
Joy, when excessive, becomes attachment. Beauty, when uncontrolled, turns into distortion. Bearing such weight, Nightmare spoke a quiet truth.
Imagination births hope. But it simultaneously breeds fear.
Dream shed tears. Yet, it did not erase Nightmare. Because the Dream is not something that provides comfort. The Dream is the power to step into the unknown.
And deeper still, a new entity began to quietly take shape.
It did not scream. It did not burn brightly. Yet, it was something necessary.
These were known as the Lesser Pillars. Not as massive as the Primordial Pillars, but essential to support the world from within.
The first to sway was Life.
It was like a small spark remaining in the space where Death had passed. It spoke not, nor posed questions.
Small, fleeting, and temporary, yet a definitive presence. Without knowing reason or questioning meaning, it moved forward, simply because it was meant to be.
Next emerged Space.
If Time allowed for movement, then Space was the force that provided direction. The expanse felt vast, yet it was not infinite. On the canvas of Space, the other pillars began to take shape. From there, the world began to unfold.
However, as the world continued to expand, it gradually began to lose its center.
To prevent this, Gravity appeared.
This force was quiet and gentle, yet it certainly spoke to the world.
Stay here.
It did not bind or constrain. Still, it gathered the stars, bent the flow of time, fixed the sun, and enclosed dying giants in silence.
Once influenced by it, no one could resist.
Eventually, a part of the world shattered.
The fragments became Elements.
When light and fear collided, Fire was born. Where the Dream seeped into Space, Water gathered. From the ruins of the broken Law, Earth was formed. And from the first narrative that said, I am, Wind began to blow.
The Elements were not pillars. Yet, they were more than mere matter. They determined the form of reality according to their own rhythm and structure. Even without possessing will, they were indispensable for building the world.
The Lesser Pillars continued to work quietly thereafter.
Sound was born as the means to deliver stories to the world. Color bloomed when light shattered within the Dream. Memory began to connect the events scattered throughout time. Instinct inscribed fear deep within the heartbeat of Life. Heat emerged where movement and entropy intersected. And then, Form revealed itself when Law and Dream agreed upon the ideal shape.
These powers do not exist to dominate the world. They simply exist for the world to function.
The Great Pillars moved according to a far-reaching purpose. Filling the gaps between them, the Lesser Pillars drifted in the world, dancing like dust. Eventually, stars were born, forms materialized, and slowly, life began to open its eyes.
However, before the world found tranquility, there was an existence wandering outside its fringes.
The Children of Chaos.
They were ancient, incomplete beings drifting since an era when not even gravity existed. Their forms bore an eerily familiar, ravenously hungry outline, almost like a prototype of Ungri Uvos. They remembered the first cry of existence and longed to return to the moment before definition. Order and form were akin to a prison for them.
Even now, they continue to seek the gaps between the pillars, searching for a path back to that chaos.
As the world stabilized, a new power awakened there: Story.
Stories emerged from Identity, Conflict, and Purpose, gradually enveloping reality like accumulating sand. Strong stories rose upward, drawing near the pillars and beginnings. Weak stories sank downward, falling into the incomplete depths of the world.
As a result, a peculiar boundary emerged between the upper and lower layers. There were restrictions on passage, and distortions appeared in how things were seen. From above, one could gaze upon the lower world. However, from below, the upper world could not even be perceived.
From this boundary, a dangerous thought sprouted.
—The one telling the story is me.
All layers began to consider themselves as the center. Those above perceived the lower realms as less than nothing, unaware that they too were being observed. This phenomenon would later be called the Law of Descent.
The narrator is always seen by another narrator. That gaze is also enveloped by another gaze from even higher up. There is no one residing at an absolute pinnacle.
In the lowest layer where the Lesser Pillars support existence, and dreams still skim the edges of form, mortals appeared.
Fleeting and fragile lives born from dust and gravity. Prone to loss and imperfection. Yet, they could feel. And they remembered.
The most dangerous question of all—
Who am I?
That question shook the very foundations of the world.
That was the beginning of the Cycle, later known as the Wheel of Reincarnation.
Life was not eternal. Bodies decayed, and stories faded away. Yet, the soul remained.
And with each return, the soul gradually changed. With each rebirth, a new chapter was added. Thus, within the soul, countless stories accumulated.
However, among them were those who had taken on too many stories.
They could no longer be merely human. They themselves had become stories.
Endless myths. Wandering concepts. Enormous existences that could not be measured by anyone.
Some were called gods, while others were feared as monsters.
But the truth was that their essence was merely a story that refused to end.
As such entities increased, the lower world sank further under their weight.
Because every story, sooner or later, must be told.
And all stories, though they change form, long to be narrated.