Author’s note: This is my attempt to write a creation story for the universe in which many of the stories on this blog are set. Please, don’t hesitate to comment with any critiques or suggestions–it’s always helpful to hear your thoughts, as readers, on what works and what doesn’t. Thanks and enjoy! 🙂
In the beginning, it is said, the world came into being through the pen of Jaeoril the Storyteller, the Timeless One. Time, space, and all of creation were but pinpricks in the depths of his imagination until they began to take shape in his mind; and as they did, a yearning swelled within him until it filled all his being, as though it would pour from the doors of his heart if he would but open them.
So, taking up a scroll, he stretched it across the void surrounding him, and began to write, for he could not contain the story which unfolded within his mind. The images flowed forth from his pen, translating to words upon the parchment. And the words were perfect, of a language only Jaeoril will ever know, for their power exceeds all creation.
As the tale took form upon the scroll, so it arose about him. A word was written, and light burst forth, leaving darkness behind as it sped through the void of space. Colors of immortal brilliance obeyed every command of his pen, spiraling and glimmering with life. There were clouds of mist, suspended and shapeless. Beings not entirely unlike himself, though less in power, began to walk within the story incarnate. To each he gave a portion of his own power, according to their kind, and the mind and will to govern themselves. Those to whom he gave the keys of life and death, he called the Toriel; the rest, whose abilities pertained to light and darkness, he called the Gadiel.
By and by, a sphere of green and blue took shape in the midst. From it blew warm breezes to graze his face as he wrote, bearing with it the many fragrances of saltwater, mud, grass, leaves, and rock. This sphere he called Aeolarea, and breathed his life upon her. And from deep within her arose beings who, like the Toriel and the Gadiel, possessed no physical forms–though they soon learned to acquire them. These he called the Fyrbein, whose power was of fire; the Aeobein, masters of water; and the Gwynbein, whose strength was the wind.
And after these, many other creatures awoke upon Aeolarea’s surface—creatures as numerous and varied as the lands themselves. The greatest of these were a diverse race called the Dragons, who did not, as the legends say, breathe fire. Many were giants among creation, though some were small; and most possessed an intelligence that rivaled that of the Toriel.
And so the story was written, whether in moments or centuries, none can say. And some believe it continues, that even to this day the Storyteller has not ceased his writing. But, in the beginning, all of creation responded to the musings of his pen–playing out his story as actors upon a living stage.
Alas that free will inevitably breeds dissatisfaction. But therein lies a tale for another time.