Amidst the darkness and void that surrounded the universe, a lone light shone; far more brilliant than the sun.
The figure slowly turned, and as the blinding light it emitted gradually subsided, the figure came into view. A pale blue eye came into the field; as it looked around the void, the empty dark universe all around. Its eyelashes were brighter than the stars around, illuminating its surroundings with a white aura surrounding it.
The entity was The First Light, a being older than the existence of the universe itself. It presided over the multiverse and sought to watch over it, to guard it. Wherever his gaze landed, a new worldline would blossom; his tears blessed those worldlines with mortals, nature, rivers, and oceans.
The First Light was not just any powerful existence; it loved the worldlines it created. However, there was a hint of vulnerability in its eyes that belied the wisdom and power he had accumulated throughout his life, the origin of which remains unknown.
The Final Light was troubled, it was saddened; a heavy weight bearing on his heart, that dragged it down. Its power was absolute, palpable; its wisdom was tremendous. However, it was troubled, as it dawned on him the repercussions its power had. Its absolute command over its power was just a double-edged sword, threatening to cut the wielder. It loved the worldlines it created, spending deliberate time on each one; its tears blessed the world with the elemental prowess that flows through water.
However, the very worlds it sought to guard disappeared under the magnitude of its gaze, dissipating into nothingness. It was maddening, the guardian of the worlds, being the cause of their destruction. It couldn't take it; it was getting to its head. The First Light devised a plan to put an end to all of this. It came to the verdict that since its power was far too much for any world to stand, it had to divide its energy. That energy was 'spiritual matter'; that was one with The First Light. Its eyelashes were the embodiment of 'spiritual matter' and were one with it. Throughout the multiverse, it had sacrificed portions of this energy to keep numerous worldlines safe, but in vain. As it counted the remaining eyelashes, it realized that there were 14 left.
As it pondered over the division of itself and thought-since the 'offspring' that would be created would be a part of it, they would vow to save the world. However, it was aware that deep within its subconsciousness lurked an ego that threatened to erase the very existence of these worlds, and it had been growing ever so slowly for the past 500 spiritual years. It let out a sigh -it had to be done- perhaps out of personal reasons, but it was necessary. Out dropped an eyelash from The First Light, the spiritual matter around it swirled in a shade of brilliant blue, and then in a flash of light, it condensed into a humanoid figure. The First Light gazed at its offspring as it transferred the prowess of the Dawn. The prowess that symbolized dawn was Light, everlasting, that flowed through the universe.
As lash after lash fell, and the power of The First Light depleted with each passing moment, in front of it stood his 12 offspring, which he had concluded with the prowess of dusk, and then Darkness.
There they were, his offspring: Dawn, Earth, Wind, Ember(flame), Tides(water), Frost, Thunder, Revenge, Dreams, Time, Dusk, and finally Darkness. However, something didn't add up; there were 2 eyelashes left, and it could not possibly create a child that would be far superior to its kinspersons. It was an irrational decision, but it was too late to back down now; The First Light had already created most of its offspring, and it was atrocious to finish them off. It had the prowess of 'Void' left, for which it had not found the proper wielder; maybe, this one could be it.
As the 13th eyelash fell, and the spiritual matter condensed, another humanoid figure came into view. There it stood, his final offspring; as it transferred the most significant element, Void.
The vision of The First Light blurred, the toll of the universe was acting on it, and it no longer possessed enough spiritual matter to stand it. The pain- akin to it being shredded into innumerable pieces- had begun to dissipate. The First Light. Numerous distortions had begun to take shape on The First Light's body; it was fading… dying.
As the 13th figure took shape, its head tilted and looked at its palm, where the 14th eyelash of the First Light fell. It looked up, as a horrifying sight greeted it; The First Light, the eye was closing. It had collapsed.
Over the course of hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, these 13 figures came to be known as 'deities.' Each one of them symbolizes an element or an emotion. Throughout the years, they started to struggle for power, for influence, and control over the world. Some sought to corrupt it and reserve it for themselves, while the others wished for harmony; yet only wanted the others not to exercise control.
Amidst the stars lay a large pool of darkness, void, as far as the eye could see or beyond; The 13th deity's territory. The 13 deities had come to meet and deliberate over who would exercise control over the world. It was troublesome, not one of them was willing to back down; the 12 of them quarrelling. As arguments turned to threats, the 13th deity intervened, his voice eerily calm despite the ruckus.
"We can not afford to sit around and quarrel over such matters for long. Let us host a ceremony, and all of you will be given time to exercise your control over the world. The one that causes no cataclysm shall have the world for themselves."
The other deities looked around; no one dared to defy the Void in his territory. Nyxarith(Darkness) chuckled and said, "Ingenious indeed, Vornhal, so we shall."
The 13th deity remained impassive and stated, "Let us begin with Earth, Dawn, Wind, Ember(flame), Tides(water), Frost, Thunder, Revenge, Dreams, Time, Dusk, and finally Darkness."
Dreams eyed the 13th deity closely and raised her eyebrows, "Are you not going to participate?"
"I shall not, I will merely observe and ensure the flow of this ceremony." Said The 13th deity.
With that, the period of Earth began, as she created a world, filling it with Nature, Trees, Forests, and bore life. Life was thriving, and all looked perfect for Earth; however, it only lasted a while. With the growth of nature increasing at an alarming rate, humans started dying. Wildlife thrived and reigned over the world, rendering humans helpless. No matter how much she tried to save the world, it was in vain. This marked the end of Earth's reign.
Then came Dawn, as it released a light in shades of brilliant white. The earth scorched under its might, and most of the inhabitants burnt to death, marking the end of the rule of Dawn.
The other deities suffered the same fate, trying with everything they had, only in vain. Revenge, however, was left out; the deities considered her negligible and believed that she would not be able to reign whatsoever. The 13th deity watching from his territory smirked at the scene unfolding before him. He was mildly amused; he had predicted this would happen, so it was like reading a book the second time, knowing what happens next.
He called the other deities back into his territory and decided to address them. As they all took their places, livid from the happenings, he spoke, "Well, looks like we have no victor. Then, we shall not squabble over this again. Our next course of action is to live in harmony and have influence in conjunction. I will not be making myself clear again." No deity dared to question the 13th deity; with Skuggaskor(scythe-which literally means 'cutting and ruling the void'), the weapon gleaming with an eerie calm, its blade carved with obsidian, looked deadly, its prowess seeping out. With the Skuggaskor by his side, waging an argument against him in his territory was suicide.
With that, life on the planet had begun, as earth bore life, tides provided rain, dawn yielded light, and such did the other deities, except the 13th. The people living there conjured beliefs and myths about the deities. Organizations were being built and were named in the belief of deities.
Seeing this unfold before them, the deities decided to intervene and find true followers for themselves, who could attain their favor. The deities had conjured 12 castles over the course of the world and added a quest that had to be fulfilled. To date, the 12 apostles who completed the quests have remained unchanged. These 12 apostles are the heads of the organizations of the 12 deities.
The deities have conditioned them to perform rituals, which encompass the use of the favor they had earned from the deities themselves. The rituals were not ordinary, far from it; they released spiritual matter, which the respective deity absorbed and gained power from.
A few of the deities had corrupted their apostles into eternal slumber and exercised control over them like a puppet. They used the apostle's body as a medium to perform rituals and gain power. These deities sought to increase their influence over the world and to corrupt it, exercising full control over it. The other deities were firm not to intervene, in the expectation that their actions would stop soon; however, they did not. The deities manipulated and abused their control over their apostles, rendering them helpless.
The other deities could not stand this; they did not want to save the world in its entirety, nor did they want to save humanity; no, they merely wanted to stop these deities from increasing their influence before it's too late.
The Deities did not rest for long; not waiting for the aid of the 13th deity, who merely observed. No, they could not afford to rest much longer. Wind called a 'meeting' to conclude things once and for all, not knowing things were about to head south.
Back in the world, the myths and beliefs about the deities had grown to an unprecedented amount. Organizations and Orders were being built for the Deities; these had chambers where they conducted rituals. However, the location of these chambers was mysterious and unknown. The 13 deities were worshipped and were considered the 'savior' of the world.
An organization named The Pyric Covenant was for the Deity of Flames, who came to be known under the title: 'Flame that cleansed the Evil.' Flames were considered the purest form of nature, and
One was made, The Order of First Emberlight was for the Deity of Dawn, who was titled with - Crown of Dawnfire.
Consequently, the other deities were designated with titles. Tides came to be known as 'The Lady of Unfathomable Depths'. Her followers were believed to be conducting rituals along the shore, the vast oceans.
Earth was known as the 'Bearer of the First Life'. She was considered the Almighty Mother and given unparalleled respect, having given life and opportunity, as believed by humans.
Thunder was known as the 'High Arbiter of the Tempest'. Thunder came to be worshipped as the ruler above the clouds, comrade of the wind.
Revenge was defended and encouraged, and came to be known as 'Lady of the Red Truth'. Frost was known as 'He Who Whispers in the Blizzard'. He was considered responsible for the ice age, and worshipped for the same.
Time was considered eternal and everlasting, irreversible, and came to be known as 'He Who Turns the Wheel of No Return'.Dusk was considered the twin sister of Dawn and came to be known as 'Whisper of Sundown'. However, she was considered the polar opposite of Dawn.
Darkness, that accompanied the night sky after the bid of dusk, was known as 'Twilight Warden of The Veil'. In the dead of night, when people slept and dreamed, dreams were considered an illusion, a mirage, and were known as 'The Mind's Mirage'. Finally, the 13th deity, one that accompanied none, and was eternal, trespassing the boundaries of even time, Void; he came to be worshipped and known as 'Harbinger of Oblivion's Edge'.
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WHEN ORDER BREAKS
In the gathering of the deities, instigated by Skairo(Wind), things had taken a turn for the worse. Where he thought they would peacefully sort out things, something completely different had happened. The discussion had evolved into a full-blown argument, with neither party willing to yield defeat. Things were heating up fast, and oblivion seemed inevitable. As the argument reached its zenith and wind was about to speak, to settle everything, they made their first move.
Astrae (Earth) had stood up, and they banged the Fjallhamarr was the hammer that had been crafted by the mountains themselves, imbued with the raw prowess they carried in the middle. The hammer, embedded with gems and stones, with a green hue, shook the space around. The air around them trembled from the impact. Waves of green went around in a ripple, in the space that surrounded them and beyond. Before Skairo (wind) could speak, the other deities had started to take out the weapons themselves.
Neraya(Tides) had taken out the Sjonhjalmr. The Sjonhjalmr was a magnificent trident forged not in fire, but deep within the abyssal pressures of the ocean floor, imbuing it with the raw, untamed prowess of the water element. It glowed with a blue hue, and the three tips, emboldened by the prowess of water, radiated a blue aura. Flame had taken out the Ed Eldngeirr, the spear that wielded the prowess of fire, the tip glowing with a red tint, ember swirling around the handle. The spear burned, not with wildfire, but with embers that never died. Bound within the spear was a primeval flame, a fire that burned from within rather than upon the skin, turning armor brittle and will to ash.
Varkon(Thunder) had taken out his Skyvlendir. The weapon that binds the clouds, keeping them answerable to its call. Forged in the eye of a skyfall, the Cloud Blinder wore the sky like a wound; Lightning did not leap from it; it answered. Frymir (Frost) had taken out the Vetskor. The Vetskor breathed silence. Frost gathered along its edge like a held breath, and every cut carried the stillness of deep snowfields.
Retyra(Revenge) had withdrawn the Sarhefnir. The Sarhefnir Dagger remembered. Its edge burned with grudges older than blood, striking deeper with every wrong endured by its bearer. Wounds dealt by it never healed cleanly, as though the blade demanded balance before mercy.
Khorin (Time) did not hesitate, and he took out the Hvael Qldar, the wheel of time, the wheel that never turned back. The Hvael Qldar turned without sound. Its motion bent moments around it—slowing, hastening. To face it was to feel past and future press inward, as if the present were merely a thin and fragile place to stand. Vesmir (Dusk) did not back down, and she took out the Skuggaskjoldr. The Skuggaskjoldr was the shield that drank the light meant to harm its bearer. Blows vanished into its surface, swallowed by moving dark that rippled like ink in water. It did not block attacks—it erased their intent.
Nyxarith had not come in its true form, as it preferred to observe from the sidelines, but its 'spiritual body' took out the Myrkurbogi. The Myrkurbogi was absence, given form, the arrows travelled without sound and left emptiness in their wake. Its string hummed with quiet inevitability, and each arrow loosed from it carried night's certainty. Where its shots landed, light fled—not shattered, but denied. Having seen Dusk prepare to fight, Auric (Dawn), Dusk's brother, could not afford to wait; he took the Solskot. The Solskot, the arrow imbued with sunfire, burned before it flew. Sunfire crowned its shaft, radiant and merciless, piercing not just armor but concealment itself. Shadows recoiled from its path, and truth followed in its wake like dawn after a long siege. Lysara (Dreams) was not to be left out and took out the Skuggwrull (shadow-scroll). The Skuggwrulll whispered only when read in darkness. Its ink shifted like living thought, revealing truths that light refused to hold. Knowledge taken from it lingered—heavy, powerful, and never entirely willing to be forgotten.
Skairo, watching, was appalled by the scene unfolding before him. However, he did not get any time to dwell on it, as he dodged a zooming stalagmite by the fraction of a second. Standing before him was Frost. Wind's eyes widened in shock. "It can't be…?" he thought, as he looked around and to his horror, every single deity was engaged in a fierce battle. In fact, there were more that threatened to control the world than to 'keep it safe'. Wind gulped; there was no other way, as he took out the Gnyblindi (wind whip). The Gnyblindi was never still. Its form wavered between presence and absence, a living ribbon of air bound to the wielder's will. Each crack tore the sky itself, and the strike arrived before the sound—leaving only shredded breath and the memory of motion where the blow had passed. With his Gnyblindi in hand, he made his way near Frymir.
The air crackled with the stillness of snow, like a held breath. Stalagmites came flying, turned to dust as Skairo cracked the Gnyblindi, turning the air into an icy mist; effectively nullifying the threat. However, it was far from over; rather, it had just begun.
Skairo yelled over the tandem, "You have… brought wreckage upon the world. Your actions have led to the Order's break."
Skairo launched at Frymir, his Gnyblindi in his hand, as he dodged another volley of ice shards. He reached Frost and cracked his whip, the Gnyblindi swirling with a shade of brilliant green, the wind around it directing towards Frymir. The stalagmites disintegrated into infinitesimal particles, diffusing with the air around the Gnyblindi and heading towards him. Frymir was taken aback by the surge of aggression coming from the usually passive Skairo. He attempted to dodge the innumerable shards, however tiny, charging towards him, accelerated by Skairo.
"You have brought sham-"
Skairo felt a piercing sensation in his right shoulder, and as he looked to his right, there he was. Nyxarith, in the form of the child he had incarnated in, with his bow, an arrow stuck in Wind's shoulder. The pain was searing, his vision blurred as the effect of the arrow seeped into his arm, slowly immobilising his arm. He tried to move his arm, only to find it unmoving.
"Skairo, you underestimate the prowess of darkness."
Skairo turned despite the pain, and yelled "NYXARITH, HOW DARE YO-," but before he could finish his sentence, he felt a sharp, piercing sensation, just above his solar plexus. The pain was searing and excruciating. He gazed at his own chest, now pierced by the Vetrskor. Blood gushed out and trickled down the edge of the blade, flowing down his chest. Frost was behind him, his arm outstretched as he pulled out his blade.
Skairo collapsed to his knees as a pool of blood formed near his feet. He looked at his hands, riddled with wounds. His vision was blurred with the pain, yet he saw Frymir moving from his peripheral vision. Frymir was walking around Skairo, taking slow,
deliberate steps, as if enjoying the helpless state Skairo was in. Skairo's mind raced with thoughts, "Is this really how we end? Did this all happen because the Order Broke?" He thought of any way to escape, or to turn the tables. "Are the five of us really the ones that fall to the hands of these Seven? 12 deities to 7…" He thought hard, "12… 12… No, there were 13 deities… Vornhal, only he can do it."
Wind's breath came out in ragged gasps, as he looked to the universe and beyond, "Vornhal, it's only you that can save the order now..."
As decimation seemed imminent, and the blade of Frost was nearing Wind, in a shade of brilliant black and blue, his presence sending tremors through the other deities, he appeared. The shards coming towards him had disappeared, having made contact with him. He said nothing, just stood there.
Frymir charged towards him, and down came the Skuggaskor on his spine, leaving cuts in its wake. Frymir was appalled by the difference in strengths and capabilities that Vornhal was showcasing. The other deities, having subdued their opponents from the sheer number, charged in and towards the void.
Void, something that was everywhere and nowhere, the last offspring of the First Light, blessed with Skuggaskor, which was made from the last eyelash of the First Light, was not like the other deities. No, he was the inheritor of the last ego of the First Light; neutrality. Void was superior to the other deities in every sense; his weapon was forged with spiritual matter that was equivalent to every other deity single-handedly. However, it was not possible to defeat every other deity relying on the power; he could not kill them off; they were the backbones of the world.
As he stood with the Skuggaskor, his back facing most of the deities, standing towards the others, he knew oblivion was nearing. He did not have much time to think, as the tides that threatened to crush everything in their path loomed nearer. Time in his battered state slowed the tides with his Hvael Qldar. Vornhal blocked the tides with ease and dodged the shards coming from Frymir. It was an astonishing sight. Vornhal was singlehandedly defending against 7 deities.
At a glance, the fight looked equal, but when seen carefully, one could see the slight weight advantage taking place. Vornhal was getting subdued ever so slowly. No, it was not that he was not powerful; the sheer number of the deities was too much. Yet, he did not give in and kept fighting valiantly, swinging the Skuggaskor to block incoming attacks and to counterattack as well.
One after the other, deities fell to the Skuggaskor and him, not before inflicting wounds on his true form, though. Watching from the sidelines, Skairo could see the wounds that now lay on Vornhal's body, the slashes and projectiles having left a permanent mark.
As time passed, the deities had fallen to the Skuggaskor and its mighty wielder- Vorhnal, the 13th deity. Every single deity, from Skairo to Frymir, was battered with wounds, inclusive of Vornhal. He had collapsed on his knees and stood upright with the support of the Skuggaskor, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. All was well- the order had been restored- or had it?
In front of him, a humanoid figure materialized in a shade of black. In front of him stood Nyxarith, darkness. Vornhal's eyes widened in fear. His mind was a cacophony of thoughts, "How could I overlook the absence of Nyxarith. There's no time to dwell on it; I must fight. " He tried to muster up the strength to stand back up, but his knees gave way. He was far too injured and had exhausted gargantuan amounts of his spiritual matter. He could not fight again, not until he had time to regain it.
Nyxarith took slow, deliberate steps towards Vornhal, conjuring a black dagger in his hand, the air around which was as black as darkness itself. He neared Vornhal and locked eyes, smirking, "Oh, Vornhal, how benevolent of you; coming here from the sidelines, sacrificing yourself as a spectator, and choosing to help the deities. All, for the restoration of the order." He stepped around Vornhal in slow circles, "Pity, we are so similar yet so different. You and I, nothingness that accompany Vesmir (dusk), prefer to watch rather than indulge… until now."
Vornhal chose to argue back, saying, "You and I are opposites."
Nyxarith looked at Vornhal from the corner of his eye and said, "Opposite, are we? Absolutely. You, rendered helpless and at my mercy while I… enjoy your pitiful condition." Saying so, stopped and stood before Vornhal.
Nyxarith leaned in, bringing his dagger near Vornhal's nose, looking at him dead in the eye, "You were so foolish to undermine the absence of my spiritual matter. It was never there, was it? Yet, you did not notice and chose to support those deities. How utterly foolish."
Vornhal's face contorted in disgust as he tried to stand up again, but was met with a stab in his left shoulder. The pain was searing, torturous, as it only added to the wounds riddled all over his form. "Kuughh… You won't get away with this, Nyxarith."
Nyxarith sneered, "And how will I not, specifically, Vornhal? Ah, your death shall mark the end of my reign I presume?"
He faced Vornhal again and neared the dagger to his heart. "Farewell, Vornhal, 13th deity", saying these words, he stabbed Vornhal in the heart.
The spiritual matter in him swirled around in a brilliant shade of blue, enveloping his very being. And then, shot out in all directions, heading towards the planet, scattering into innumerable pieces.
However, his actions were not in vain, as Order had been restored amongst the deities.