Fullworthia

Before civilizations, before planets and galaxies, before even the cosmos and time itself. Dimensions did not exist, and the splendor of The Founder reigned over all places and, at the same time, no place at all; no reality.

The Founder remained in his court, not waiting, not lingering, not witnessing—there was nothing, and at the same time, there was everything. In that same instant, neither before nor after, when his first breath imbued the dark void, The Vanished walked beside his brother. The Elder greeted The Founder, who returned the gesture with gratitude, while the younger brother stayed distant, choosing to remain in The Elder’s shadow.

The gathering of the primordials reverberated throughout the All. In that divine convergence, Archí ignited; nonexistence perished as its flame warmed the hearts of the ancients, spreading light across the everything, turning it into nothing.

The Elder's touch resonated through the newborn worlds. The breath of The Founder made the dormant dust blaze, and with dimensionality came causality. The Sage was welcomed by his siblings, weaving the threads of time.

A new space was formed, and Ataxía thrived in splendor. Time flowed, and colossal planets, as vast as stars, floated through the ancient cosmos. Millions of eras passed until The Vanished broke his suffocating silence, touching the still-barren surfaces of creation. From his noble essence, crystals emerged from infertile soil, and new beasts began to walk the lands.

The chaos was unsustainable, and The Sage foresaw what destiny held. The flame of the candle burned coldly, and the worlds, as beautiful as they were, were ephemeral. Just as at the beginning, darkness would claim them, and the flame would be extinguished.

There was nothing to be done or undone. The cycle remained unchanged: every time Archí ignited, it would soon fade. The Elder saw no contradiction; he believed it was better this way: a cycle with balance required an end for there to be a beginning. Yet the oldest, harboring immense sorrow, decided to do something different, a new contribution was imminent.

At the end of another cycle, The Founder, with boundless love, created a new divine being. The Child held the candle in her youthful hands—a gift from The Founder. From that moment on, a new bearer would ignite Archí alongside the other Ancients.

Ataxía was condemned to oblivion, and the new ignition was fiercer. Progress surged, and a new universe was born. But The Elder looked upon that creation with disdain: the perpetual candle did not allow for a true restart. It was an unending expansion that promised only pain and separation, consuming the inhabitants of magnificent worlds.

The Sage intervened, now tending to the newly formed celestial bodies. With new possibilities came a chance for burgeoning life. Small creatures thrived, and with this renewal, The Mother emerged, celebrating with her children. Her nurturing touch filled creation with pure love and vitality.

The Vanished, on the other hand, harbored deep hatred. He could not understand why The Founder failed to see the futility of continuous creation. His wrath led to great devastation. Yet, The Mother remained unfazed. She saw in the destruction an opportunity for renewal. Thus, even as life extinguished, new life emerged from the chaos, and the cycle began anew.