… Remember me…
At the veil of creation, there was naught but a soul. The soul knew not whence it had come, nor for what purpose it dwelt in the vast and boundless void. It lingered in stillness, untouched by the march of time, for time itself had yet to be conceived.
Yet, in the fullness of an unknown moment, the soul began to stir. A yearning arose within it, a longing neither named nor understood. And lo, from this yearning was born the first of all emotions: Desire. By the power of Desire, the soul did reach into the nothingness and wrought from it something where once there was naught.
Into this something, the soul poured its boundless yearning, and thus was born the first child of the Soul. Though the Soul and Desire were of one essence, they were yet distinct. Desire, upon its awakening, knew not what it was. Yet, when it beheld the Soul, it understood its origin and purpose.
Together, the Soul and its firstborn wandered the vast emptiness. Yet there was naught to see, nor to touch, nor to hear. Desire, in its boundless nature, longed to commune with its father, yet knew not the way. Thus, did it create speech, that it might give voice to its unending longings.
Desire spake unto the Soul, saying: "O Father, I yearn to fill this void with many things, for such is my nature." And the Soul, moved by the pleas of its child, did consent. Together, they set forth to fill the void with wondrous creations, wrought from the essence of Desire and the will of the Soul.
The Soul, guided by its child's unceasing yearning, shaped the formless into form. First, it fashioned Light, that they might see. And the darkness that cloaked the void was pushed back.
Desire beheld the light and marveled, yet soon its yearning grew anew. "Father," spake Desire, "this light is wondrous, yet it is lonesome. Let us create more, that the void may sing with splendor."
Thus, the Soul and Desire labored together, and from their hands sprang stars, countless in number, each a beacon in the endless expanse. Around the stars they placed worlds, spinning in celestial harmony.
Upon one such world, they breathed life and named it humankind. Beholding their creation, the Soul felt something stir within, akin to its first yearning. It was a desire to see this creation flourish and grow. And from this longing was born the second emotion and the second child of the Soul: Hope.
Hope came into being and, like its elder sibling, knew at once how it had come to life. When Desire beheld Hope, a new feeling took root within it, a radiance within its being. From this feeling sprang Desire's own firstborn: Joy.
Now the four, Soul, Desire, Hope, and Joy, wandered together, creating and filling the void with countless wonders and life. Yet the Soul, in its musings, wondered when its first child had come into being, but there was no measure for such a thing. Thus, with the urging of Desire, it fashioned Time, that the moments of creation might be counted and the flow of existence marked.
---
After countless ages, the creators turned their gaze upon their cherished work: humankind. They saw that the humans had flourished, and being the children of Soul and Desire, bore within them a spark of their creators. This spark, the humans called Wisdom.
Through Wisdom, humankind created wonders of their own and dwelt in harmony. The creators watched with wonder, and their fondness for their creation deepened. Among them, Hope felt the strongest attachment. This bond grew and transformed, becoming a yearning to nurture and cherish humankind.
From this yearning, Hope willed into existence its own firstborn: Love. Love came forth, radiant and warm, a force that bound creation together. With devotion unyielding, Love sought to protect humankind and to draw them closer to one another.
Thus, Love became the fifth to join the divine company, and its presence wove harmony into the great tapestry of creation.
Assuming forms like unto humankind, the creators descended from their celestial heights to meet their creation.
The Soul, arrayed in a golden robe adorned with shimmering threads, bore upon its brow a crown of purest white. Thus, did it introduce itself, saying, "I am the All-Father, the source of all that is."
Desire, clad in a white robe with golden bracelets gracing its wrists, stood beside its father and spake, "I am the Firstborn of the All-Father, the wellspring of yearning and creation."
Likewise, did Hope, Joy, and Love reveal themselves in turn, each declaring their essence and purpose.
The creators dwelt among their creation, teaching the humans many things. They showed them how to wield the spark of Wisdom within, how to shape their thoughts and emotions, and how to embrace the essence of each divine progenitor.
Desire taught humanity the art of yearning, to strive, to create, to seek evermore. Hope imparted the strength to dream, to endure, and to aspire toward the unseen. Joy showed them the lightness of being, the ecstasy of existence. Love, most tender of all, spent countless days walking among the humans, teaching them what it meant to cherish one another, to bind their hearts in unity and devotion.
The humans, eager to preserve the sacred wisdom imparted unto them, recorded the tales of creation and the teachings of the divine in tomes, that the knowledge might endure for all time.
The All-Father, in his wisdom, fashioned a sanctuary in the heavens, a radiant abode from which he could watch his children and grandchildren walk among the humans. There he dwelled, contemplating the harmony of creation.
Humankind, bearing the spark of their creators, were eternal as their makers. They lived, multiplied, and created wonders, their radiance growing ever brighter.
---
Yet, over the ages, a strange stirring awoke within Desire. Whenever it beheld Love walking among the humans, there was a peculiar glimmer in their eyes, a light that mirrored Love's essence. Desire, in its boundless nature, yearned for that light to be turned upon itself, that humans might feel the same toward it.
This yearning grew, and from it, a shadow was born, unbidden and unnoticed: Envy.
Envy was unlike its elder siblings. It was a being of subtlety and shadow, ethereal and unseen. Knowing its nature to be unwelcome, it hid itself, veiling its presence even from the All-Father.
Yet Envy, though hidden, could not deny its nature. It whispered into the hearts of humankind, sowing discontent and longing for that which was not theirs. Humans, once content in their divine spark, began to crave more. They desired to be as their creators, to rise above their station, and to claim for themselves the power of the All-Father and his children.
And so it came to pass that humanity, consumed by Envy's whispers, rose in rebellion against their makers. They defied their creators, seeking to usurp the heavens themselves.
---
The All-Father, beholding the rebellion of humankind, felt a new stirring within its boundless essence. Unlike the warm yearning of creation, this was a cold and consuming force, a shadowed reflection of Desire. It was a force of destruction.
In its grief and wrath, the All-Father stretched forth its hand, and with a single word, the humans were unmade. Their cities crumbled, their works turned to dust, and their light was snuffed out.
And thus, was born the third emotion, and the third child of the Soul: Anger.
Anger stood beside the All-Father, its presence fierce and unyielding. It spake not, yet its very being carried the weight of destruction. The creators, once radiant with the joy of creation, now stood in the shadow of loss.
Yet the All-Father, though grieved, did not despair. "From the ashes of this folly," spake the All-Father, "shall we learn. For even destruction hath its place in the balance of creation." …
---
"What the heck is that? Where did you find that book, Tyrese?" asked a girl with black hair that fell in loose curls around her shoulders, her striking blue eyes narrowing as they fixed on the worn, ancient tome in his hands. Her brown skin seemed to glow faintly under the pale light of the flickering sigil lamp hanging from the low ceiling of Tyrese's modest home.
The room was small and unadorned. A single bed was tucked against one corner, its blanket neatly folded. To the left, a humble kitchen with a stone stove graved with sigil symbols and wooden shelves held a few pots and utensils. A small doorway led to a cramped sanitary chamber. The air carried the faint smell of herbs drying above the stove.
Tyrese, a boy who looked no older than sixteen, straightened his back, his expression triumphant. He ran a hand through his short, curly hair and held the book aloft as though it were a trophy. "I found it in the Lost Sanctuary," he declared. "I think it's a relic from the past."
Maha's eyes widened in disbelief, and she took a cautious step back. "I must have misheard you," she said slowly, her voice trembling. "Did you just say the Lost Sanctuary? The same sanctuary that's said to be cursed? The one from which people never return sane?"
"Yeah, that one." Tyrese grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "It wasn't as bad as the stories make it out to be. I have my ways, Maha. And those so-called curses? Just rumors to scare off the weak-hearted."
Maha stared at him, her astonishment quickly giving way to frustration. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea how dangerous that place is? And you brought something back from there?"
"Relax," Tyrese said, waving a hand dismissively. "The place was practically deserted, and this book, it's incredible. Just look at it." He turned the leather-bound tome so she could see its cracked spine and faded gold lettering. "It's old, older than anything we've been taught. The writing inside is barely legible, but from what I just read, it talks about creation, about gods..."
"That's obviously blasphemy," Maha snapped, cutting him off. Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper as she leaned closer. "That book must have been written by someone from the old cult. Everyone knows it was the God of Light who created us and shared his knowledge with humankind. At least, that's what the Church of Light teaches."
Tyrese smirked. "Exactly. That's what they teach. But what if they're wrong? What if this book tells a different truth?"
"Stop," Maha hissed, her face flushing with anger and fear. She glanced around nervously, as if expecting a Church Sentinel to appear from the shadows. "Tyrese, you're playing with fire. If anyone catches you with this, you could be executed for blasphemy. Do you understand that?"
Tyrese shrugged, unconcerned. "They'd have to catch me first. Besides, isn't it worth asking the question? Why would they be so afraid of this knowledge if it wasn't dangerous to their lies?"
Maha opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, shaking her head. "You're impossible." She turned away, but then hesitated, torn between curiosity and fear. Her fingers twitched as though tempted to snatch the book from him, but she thought better of it. "I don't want anything to do with this," she said finally. "Anyway, I have to go. We've got training tomorrow, and you should get some rest." She glared at him, her voice hardening. "And get rid of that book, Tyrese. Burn it, bury it, I don't care. Just don't let anyone else see it."
She spun on her heel and began to walk away, her steps quick and purposeful.
"Maha," Tyrese called after her, his voice softer now.
She paused but didn't turn around.
"What if the God of Light isn't the only god?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity.
Maha's shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, she said nothing. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet and pained. "Then I guess we've all been living a lie."
With that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Tyrese alone with the forbidden tome and the questions it carried.
He glanced down at the book, its pages glowing faintly under the light of the sigil lamp. Tyrese couldn't help but wonder, what knowledge had been lost, and why was it so dangerous?