Before there was language—
before stars were named,
or silence was feared—
they moved.
Massive forms drifted through the void,
unseen by mortal eyes,
unmeasured by any scale.
One burned
like a flame that had never known fuel.
One stirred
like a storm locked in slow motion.
One stood still
and devoured all light.
One pulsed
from within—a being not of body, but of stone.
And one breathed
roots and leaves that coiled the void in calm.
They were the First Ones.
They did not speak.
They resonated.
From that resonance, nine voices were born—
pure, vast, ancient.
These voices became Aspects.
And from the Aspects, glyphs emerged:
not written… but shaped.
Etched in divine will.
Bound by cosmic rhythm.
Alive with meaning.
The Primordials—
as mortals would one day call them—
held council in the deep celestial black.
Each offered essence.
Each gave a piece of existence.
Flame gave passion.
Tides gave memory.
Stone gave permanence.
Wind gave motion.
Storm gave change.
Radiance gave light.
Shade gave concealment.
Root gave growth.
And Void… gave silence.
From these gifts, the first glyphs were forged—
atop a cosmic anvil where resonance met will.
Nine Seals.
Nine Truths.
Bound together
in perfect pattern.
But then—
something unbidden stirred.
A tenth glyph formed.
It was not offered.
Not forged.
Not shaped by any council.
It awakened.
It shifted.
Twisted.
Refused symmetry.
It did not echo the other Aspects.
It chose.
It disobeyed.
It was Life.
And from the moment it sparked—
the pattern broke.