The Lesson of Ancients
The Ansha found himself standing on a plateau bathed in eternal light. Before him stood a figure shrouded in golden brilliance, the aura of limitless wisdom and authority radiating outward. The Ansha's heart trembled at the sight—not of fear, but of reverence.
"Father… you asked to see me," he said, his voice barely audible over the cosmic silence.
"I have something to teach you," the figure said, his tone both gentle and firm. The light around him pulsed with each word, vibrating the space like a distant drumbeat of the universe.
"Go ahead," said the Ansha.
"Do you know why we are the Ansha?" the figure asked, his voice like the echo of creation itself. "We are supreme beings in the universe. No entity, no matter how powerful, can surpass us. All magic flows from us, and all mystical law bends to us. But humans… they cannot be controlled. Only their magic can. That is why we are indomitable."
The Ansha nodded solemnly.
"You must show love to all creatures, even demons," the father continued, "and protect them from evil. Never grow arrogant. Never become a tyrant. Never let power blind you to compassion. Understand?"
"Yes, Father," the Ansha said, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on him like a mantle forged from stars.
"In ten thousand years, you will understand the prophecy," the father said, his voice softening. "Prophecies are inevitable. Nature ensures they unfold. I hope you will not face it alone."
"Yes, Father," said the Ansha, determination strengthening in his chest.
The vision faded. The Ansha's eyes snapped open, their depth now filled with clarity and purpose. "Father… I must end this. Let the prophecy unfold, but this time, it will be different," he whispered.
Rising from his seat, the Ansha's robe fluttered like a tide of midnight sky, the energy of millennia vibrating around him. "I will kill all of you."