The roots of the Tree of Life slowly retracted, giving space as Adam sat upon the cold, stone floor of the cellar, the dim light casting shadows upon his ancient visage.
The silence was palpable, broken only by the faint dripping of water somewhere in the distance.
The shimmering leaves of the Tree of Life emanated a faint light, while sporadic rays, which had found their way through the cracks above, danced upon the metallic walls.
As the aged progenitor began his tale, the aura of the room subtly changed, like the gentle shifting of a mirage.
"Before the Garden of E.D.I.N, before the humans you know of today,"
Adam began, his voice a hushed whisper, vibrating with the essence of an age that time had almost forgotten,
"Tertius was but a canvas, awaiting a new stroke of the next cycle of our planet."
Chronos listened intently, every fiber of his being attuned to Adam's words.
