Now the air feels warm as I lean closer to the fire.
Everyone sits in a circle around it, flames dancing between us, shadows stretching and shrinking with every flicker. The night is quiet, but not empty.
"Oh, I see you cared to join us today," Rifi says, her voice soft, a small smile resting on her face.
I nod slightly, returning the gesture without saying much.
The circle shifts, opening just enough for another figure to step in. An old man—an elder—his movements slow but steady. His presence alone quiets the small murmurs around the fire. He lowers himself to the ground.
"A new face has decided to join us today," the elder says, his voice calm, carrying easily through the circle. His eyes rest on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Then I may as well start from the beginning."
I listen.
"This is a story passed down through generations," he begins, staring into the flames as if reading from them. "Long before creation as you know it… before the shaping of worlds… a war broke out in the heavens."
The fire cracks softly.
"A god had evolved," he continues, "into something far beyond what it was meant to be. Its reign—its power—grew beyond the limits of existence itself. It did not simply rule a world… it began to surpass it."
A faint unease settles in my chest.
"That god's name was Sophia," he says. "The first to ever be before the others. The origin… or perhaps the mistake."
The word lingers.
"It gathered followers," he goes on, "countless beyond measure. Not through fear… but through truth. Sophia saw the flaws in creation. The questioned everything. And in doing so, it began to break the balance that held all worlds together."
I feel my fingers tighten against my knees.
"The other gods feared this," the elder says, his tone lowering. "Not because Sophia was evil… but because it was right."
Silence falls heavier around the fire.
"So they made a choice."
His gaze lifts slightly.
"To end it."
"The war lasted for eons," he continues. "A conflict without victory, without end. No matter how much they fought, Sophia could not be destroyed. It evolved, adapted… endured."
The flames rise briefly, then settle.
"In the end, the gods abandoned destruction… and chose imprisonment instead."
I feel my breath slow.
"They created a cage," he says. "Not of chains or stone… but of reality itself. A world designed to suppress power. A world that feeds on reign… consuming it as its source."
My heart skips.
"This world," he adds quietly.
The words hang in the air.
"They weakened Sophia," he continues, "and sealed the god within that world. A prison designed to last until the end of time. A prison that would slowly devour its power… until nothing remained."
The fire pops again. No one speaks.
"But the gods were not fools," the elder says. "They knew something like Sophia could not be contained so easily."
His eyes shift, briefly—toward Rifi.
"So they created watchers."
A few figures around the fire sit a little straighter.
"Beings not quite human… not quite divine. Tasked with guarding the core of Sophia. Ensuring it would never awaken… never remember… never become whole again."
My gaze drifts to Rifi without meaning to.
Her expression doesn't change.
"And so," he continues, "the watchers were placed into this world. For millennia after millennia, they fulfilled their role. Silent guardians of a truth no one else was meant to know."
The fire burns lower now, the shadows growing deeper.
"And then…"
He pauses.
"The era of humans began."
"For centuries, humans and watchers lived together in peace," the elder continues, his voice steady as the fire burns low.
"That was… until a god—perhaps a betrayer, or perhaps a companion of Sophia—whispered into the ears of a human."
The flames crackle.
"He poisoned the mind of that man… manipulated him into seeking what was never meant to be found."
A pause.
"And so… a forgotten god was awakened."
The air grows heavier.
"With that act, the balance shattered."
The elder's gaze lowers slightly.
"And so began the war between humans and watchers."
The fire flickers, shadows stretching longer across the circle.
"Some gods sided with the humans," he continues. "And those who had once tasked us with guarding Sophia's core…"
His voice hardens just slightly. "…seemed to abandon the watchers."
A quiet tension settles over the group. "The war was not short. Nor was it merciful. But in the end…"
He exhales slowly.
"The humans prevailed."
Silence.
"Sophia's core… was unsealed."
A few figures shift uneasily.
"But before its power could fully return…"
The elder lifts his head, eyes reflecting the dying fire.
"One loyal watcher chose to fulfill his duty to the very end."
No one speaks.
"He took up his sword… and struck the core itself."
The fire pops sharply.
"The impact shattered it—into millions of fragments."
A long pause follows.
"And with that… Sophia's core was destroyed."
The words hang, uncertain.
"Or so it seemed."
"The gods who once watched from above grew furious," he continues. "Not at the humans… but at us."
His voice lowers.
"The watchers."
"They saw our final act not as loyalty… but as defiance."
The flames begin to die down.
"And so, they passed judgment."
The elder's gaze sweeps across the circle—across every face lit by the fading fire.
"The watcher race was sealed away. Hidden in a place meant never to be found."
A distant sound echoes through the ruins.
"The humans who survived were spared. Taken beyond the barrier by the very gods who favored them."
He pauses.
"And those who remained behind…"
Another silence.
"…have been at war with us ever since."
The fire burns low now, barely holding its light.
"And that," the elder says quietly, "is the truth of this world."
The last ember cracks.
Darkness settles over the circle.