Creation
Old one I wrote before that I didn't lose, I especially like writing myths and legends like this so yurp
In the beginning there was nothing, but that’s a lie. In the beginning there is always something as there is never a beginning, just a time you say you want to start the confusion of the world. But, in the Creation, when we decided to begin the start of the confusion, there was the consciousness, for somewhere cannot exist without consciousness, otherwise nothing is there and it’s all a lie what you merely began not thinking. This consciousness was Magic, it covered the land, smothering it in a blanket of silence, as pure as the midnight sky, which was at the time purely black, as stars hadn’t been created, so the magic decided it needed these diamonds in the sky for it dreamed of them and created the stars, so they could shine upon its beauty and allow it to grow in confidence. The confidence sprouted from Magic into the beauty of the world, mountains soaring to the sky, forests intertwining in their lush green hues, swamps erupting and bubbling to the surface. The magic grew happier, living in its creation, yet became sad when it found the coldness that the world tailored. From these emotions sprouted the Sun and Moon, spiralling in the sky, symbolising Magic’s emotions. The magic revelled at the perfected world it had created, the pride swelling into an ocean of emotions, flooding the world in seas and lakes and rivers, each broiling, splashing, but still with a glass-like beauty.
The Magic felt strange from this, a mix of emotions, but one stood out. The feeling of no purpose. The Magic felt it needed a purpose on the world, apart from watching over it and in its pride, it decided it was too important for that job and so it created the Watcher, a Guardian of the Realm and companion for the Magic. The Watcher separated the land, creating a point of isolation for Magic, a land that was the greatest of all that could be found of the split rocks and was far from each of the other lands, which in the tongue of the ancients has a name of divinity, but is vast and complex, beyond comprehension in the minds of any in beauty and awe. The Watcher, so many could look upon this name of greatness, created a mask for the world that nulled it’s potential, a mask called Aeraniel, bestowing words and showing them each the Main Land without the bright lights that shined with it, the land which contained the purest creations, the land which the Magic and Watcher took pride in.
Magic was overjoyed with the Watcher, how it gained emotions and helped Magic, so secretly Magic created animals, beasts, the living which roamed the land to see what other creations he could conjure. The Watcher looked at what the Magic had done and roared in defiance, giving the beasts voice and thought. The Magic and Watcher fought over what the magic had created and from that spite came the Elves, a race perfect in beauty and a mind which flowed with the knowledge of creating beauty from the knowledge of their own perfect form, but the Elves had been created from Spite, so were sewn with the stitches of it, being malicious, evil and cruel, the emotions seeping through the race’s tall structures, their pores caressing the world around them in hate. The Watcher and Magic stared in horror at what they had created the beauty and elegance that was only contrasted by the pure hatred in their core. In agreement, The Watcher and Magic tried to destroy their creations, but from the goodness in their heart, they found it impossible. So they crowned The Twin Blades, two of these elves who would tell their predecessors of their creation in Hatred and reign over the Elves for Eternity, completely the opposite to each other to align in unison. These Elves were blessed with traits that the others did not possess, the most notable being where their eyes were, there just lay pieces of Magic himself, seeming like an endless void of this purity, wreaking havoc upon the minds of many. This distilled them both into a vision of Gods for the Elves with the divinity they possessed, foretelling none could look upon them without death ensuing. For this, Magic created Death, the Wanderer of the World, who took his job upon his shoulders heavily, and with the burden of the souls of the creatures of the world, began his lonesome wander of silence. To combat their first creation, in the emotion of order and knowledge they created the Dwarves, shorter to the Elves but equal and more so in knowledge, craftsmanship and their sense of adventure, fortune and a core of Honour, Valour and Order, possessing a multitude of skills that lay in each of the dark corners of the mind, breeding effort in this race. To counter the Elves, they selected two dwarves, The Twin Crafters, who would be in constant battle with The Twin Blades to bring unity to the world; their features revelled as much as those of the Elves, a divine stature for all. Yet, the world seemed empty with only the Light and Dark, so the Watcher told Magic that they should create diversity. So, with their combined skills, they created the Halflings, similar to the Dwarves and Elves but peace-loving and free at Heart, the aspect of Love that flowed through the souls of both. Then they needed to create Balance, so they brought forth the goddess, Balance to teach them what they could not learn and take the menial task of equalling out the scales to her. She told in whispers on the wind she blew, how each side should be favoured and never favoured. So the Watcher created the Ogres, a sullen, dark race that showed the same hatred as the Elves seeped, brutish in form though and thick in their skull, representing Chaos, who through the Watcher’s stupidity was brought forward, plunging into the land to hide away and manipulate from the Shadows, bringing forth his creation of Goblins, a shunted, malevolent creatures that were smitten upon Aeraniel. Finally, a final race was needed, one to balance each side, so the Watcher, Magic, Death, Balance and Chaos thought of the world and from one similar thought came the Human race and Life itself, springing forth into the world in diversity, young and bold, examples of both sides, giving the final push to the world that it needed.
Life told his fellow kinsmen that they had done well, that Aeraniel was beautiful, but now it was time to watch, to allow their creation to flourish into its prime. Each of them agreed to this, Magic knighting each power, whether accidental or purposeful, evil or good, The Ancients, beings that would be praised for all of time and he allowed that they may become one with this world, changing form and watching the wonder they had created. For the Watcher, he built his burning core at the Centre of the World, watching from Below as it unfolded, falling into a stone sleep, with a promise that he would awake when needed. For Balance, she took to the skies in the clouds, watching from above and giving the world its climate. Death took no form and could be seen by none, so his lonesome path would not be disturbed. Chaos became the fire beneath the surfaces, rupturing porous cracks onto the world above, brimming with the fiery liquid he embodied himself as. Life sprung forth into a mountain, tall enough to reach Balance and beyond, that rested a plateau on itself, filled with ice and snow, that grew the Tree of Life, a harbourer of the grandest fruit, which grew in divinity in deadly conditions.
Finally, for Magic, this land was complete, but the emptiness it had scattered in the sky had still to be awoken into Glory, so the Magic created Mana, its sister who would look after this land while it left Aeraniel alone, to let the universe behold its grandeur and to fill the space where nothing was that wasn’t. Mana accepted, the silence of Magic lifted and gave Aeraniel its voice and the Ages began, time was decided, language in its representation began and finally, the World of Aeraniel began its recordings of time, its records of history and plunging into the unknown of what lay ahead.
History began.
