A great light sprang forth over a boundless sky. The sky fractured and spewed forth molten magma. The magma quickly hardened, forming plains and hills. A mighty thunder rumbled as the sky began to broil and churn.
Torrential rain flooded everything, forming deep valleys and rivers. Where it pooled became lakes and ponds. The source of the water seemed endless, and as it flowed a thick fog covered the new land. Exotic plants of all kinds grew quickly, maturing and filling the land. A great mist covered the ground and from the mist rose all the wild life. The creatures moved about, instantly feeling a familiarity with their land.
A voice spoke, a voice of unison from the immortals and creator of this world. For years the immortals sought to create life for themselves, but always without success; always ending in horrible death. Now they created life for the sole purpose of life itself, and they looked upon their creation and smiled. Yet something was still missing.
The voices of the immortals called out and formed the laws for the land, for the land to expand exponentially, for a new sun to dawn every morning and a great many moons to rise at night, and to produce a softer light.
They then went into the land, and began to construct marvelous buildings. By the sweat of their brows and millenniums of experience they created an entire village. Yet the buildings were not for themselves but for their greatest creation yet.
With great care they harvested minerals from the ground and collected water from a nearby stream. From the air they harvested elements and lastly added a part of themselves. They took all this and created a crude cast resembling themselves. From the cast they made not one, but many. Then by their spoken word the castings cracked and shuttered. First a finger, then a hand; beings began to break from the shells created by the immortals.
Fearfully the immortals watched, daring to be hopeful that the beings would possess sentience and remain living. The new creatures gawked at each other and broke out into laughter as they began to celebrate their new life. Excitement also erupted among the immortals which caught the attention of their creations.
In unison the immortals spoke, “You have been made by us, filled with life and joy. You shall never know death nor disease. You are your own beings, to rule as you see fit; to conquer the land and all that inhabits, as you see fit. You are free and filled with wonder.”
One of the creations cautiously stepped forward, as if understanding language for the first time and began to speak, “We. . .” He stopped and turned to his peers who looked in awe and urged him to continue, “We are… your creations? Who…are you?”
The immortals spoke in unison once more, “Yes, you are our creation. We shall watch over you always. We are descended from a great world which you shall call Uplevris. You shall refer to us as the High Council.”
The man looked at the High Council skeptically and replied, “Uplevris? Do you mean paradise?”
The immortals smiled amongst themselves and replied simply, “Yes.”
The man pondered for a moment and, looking at his peers, he realized that they were looking to him for answers. He turned back to the High Council. “I shall be hence forth referred to as E’Jok of Sol. And the land shall be referred to as Dimeiron.”
Another one of the creations took a single step forward, calling, “Amil of Fem!”
Without delay the others stepped forward, calling off their desired name. Wildlife, attracted to the commotion, gathered about and looked on with curiosity, unafraid.
The High Council nodded in approval and said, “Yes, E’Jok, you shall be called thusly. When you take a mate to plant the seed of life she shall take your name as her own.”
But E’Jok interjected, “In her belonging to me she will become more free. Likewise, I will belong to her and we shall take each other’s name. The competing name shall be replaced with the immediate name of the mate.”
The High Council, impressed with E’Jok’s proclamation queried, “How shall you name the fruit of your seed?”
Without hesitation E’Jok responded, “Children? They are free too, yes? Male children shall take their father’s name as their immediate name and be known by their mother’s name. Likewise, feminine children shall take their mother’s name, but be known as their father’s. At the appropriate age the child shall choose their own name by which to be called. It will be done in harmony as they break free from the grasp of their raisers.”
“How shall your offspring be known one from another?” asked the High Council in unison.
“They will learn to know.”
A moment of silence passed by before the High Council said, “Let it be done.”
One of the Council members stepped forward, his head covered in fiery-red hair and a beard that draped down past his neck. He wore robes that were ornate and of a deep red. He was held in high regard among his own and upon his robes were strange symbols along both his shoulders. About his head was a crest of shimmering rays.
He spoke separately from the rest, his voice carrying a greatness and eloquence, “I am Draegna, high seat of the High Council. Come, we have a gift to bestow upon you.”
E’Jok followed behind Draegna and behind him came Amil and the other creations. The rest of the members of the High Council followed. They crested a nearby hill and saw the village, beautifully and yet simply made, resting peacefully.
“We built this for you,” stated Draegna. “They shall be for covering from the outdoors. They will serve as homes and shops for you and your offspring. Likewise, you too shall be bestowed another kind of covering. Though you know no shame of your nakedness, it is only appropriate that you cover your nakedness.”
Clothing formed from the air and covered all of their nakedness. The clothing was simple, clean, and comfortable.
“From this land you shall harvest all the resources for sustenance, comfort and well being. You shall have passage to and fro between Dimeiron and Uplevris.”
A massive archway ripped through the ground. The archway stood many lengths taller than the buildings, and was covered in similarly strange symbols to the ones upon Draegna’s shoulders. The symbols glowed a soft blue from deep within the black marble stone.
From the center of the pillar a whiteness grew in density until it covered the full width and height of the arches. Within the whiteness an image appeared, an image of a wide metallic street among greenery. At the end of the street rested a collection of towering buildings; some so high they appeared to touch the very sky itself. Despite it being day, the sky was open to a blackness of soft red glows dotting the sky.
The High Council members opened their mouths to speak but only gargling came from them. Followed by the gargling came coughing and hacking. The sky above began to melt and come down like hot wax washing over everything. As the scenery was scrubbed of all imagery an elder man came into view. He sat upon a rusty folding chair holding an old book in his hand. The elder man coughed and gargled. About him were children sitting on the grassy knoll. They appeared to have been listening to him. The old man continued to cough violently and as he did he waved the book around. Upon the book were the words ‘Creation Testament.’
A young boy looked about at his friends in confusion. He felt as if he had been some place else, but could not remember where. He raised his hand to ask a question.
When the elder man ceased coughing he said, “Yes, Mykala. . .what is it?”
Mykala stood in respect and said, “Greater father-“
The older man cut him off, “Mykala, what have I said about calling me that? I know your father wants you to show respect for me as his father. But please just call me Papa. Even my first name would be preferable.”
Mykala nodded and went on with his question, “Some of my friends said that the High Council didn’t really make us. That they are just some advanced civilization that found us.”
The elder man nodded solemnly and replied, “Yes, everyone is entitled to their own thoughts about things. It doesn’t mean they are right. Now take a seat and we’ll get back to the book.”
Mykala took a seat as the elderly man began to speak again. And again the story was put on hold by coughing. As he coughed the scenery began fading. Mykala glanced around and found everyone else had gone away. A blackness began to sweep in from all sides and Mykala’s papa moved toward him. He continued to cough until even he faded into the darkness.
A wetness smacked Mykala’s face. He found himself staring into the hollow eyes of a bone thin woman. Shocked, Mykala stumbled back. She too coughed, trying to speak. She appeared as if she could be dead, and yet there she stood. She seemed as bewildered as Mykala and gave up trying to talk to him. She turned aside and stumbled away.
As Mykala watched he realized the entire street was littered with garbage, broken glass and rubble. Bones laid piled in heaps. Wandering along what appeared to be an old war-zone were deathly-appearing individuals, in filthy rags. Mykala fearfully held up his own hands, shocked that his hands were worn and the knuckles were protruding through the skin. Looking down he saw old blood staining his tattered suit.
Mykala began to tremble as he wondered silently, what happened…