"Even before Time knew her own existence," the chief's voice boomed across the fire-lit village. Silence descended, even the crickets ceasing their chirps. Sera and Delena perched on a stone bench circling the flames, their shadows dancing on the blackened stones. Opposite them, the killer sat unmoving, his gaze locked on the fire as if seeking answers in its flickering depths.
"There was Divine," the chief continued, his voice deep and resonant, "sleeping in his eternal slumber. Eons passed, unchanged, until something stirred him awake."
"What was it?" Delena's curious voice cut through the stillness.
Sera flushed, embarrassed. "Forgive her, Chief. She is just—"
The chief chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Not at all, little one. We are all children of curiosity. But the truth is lost to us." He gave a weak smile to Delena, and continued. "For with Divine's awakening, Time was born, and so was the First Star." He gestured towards the north, where a single star blazed brighter than its fellows. Sera had always assumed its name stemmed from its early appearance in the twilight, but now, she wondered.
"He looked upon the First Star, awestruck," the chief continued, tossing a handful of shimmering powder into the fire. The flames transformed, burning blue with an ethereal glow. "Time grew from infant to child, watching her father, Divine, toil ceaselessly. She pleaded for him to rest, but he refused. 'If I stop,' he warned, 'Time itself will cease to exist.' And so, he forged galaxies upon galaxies, his work unending. Time, burdened with guilt, tried to create, but failed. She was merely an observer, her purpose seemingly to witness. But as she matured, wisdom blossomed. She implored her father to create a son to continue his work. He agreed, and The Creator was born."
The flames shifted to a vibrant yellow as the chief raised a hand. Sera's grip tightened on the bench, knuckles white. Was it the firelight playing tricks, or did she see the killer flinch?
"Divine retired, leaving The Creator to continue his legacy," the chief's voice dipped low, drawing the villagers' attention back. "Like an elder sister, Time watched him work. His creations were unlike any other, and she marvelled at them, praising him freely. Then, on one occasion, he revealed his ambition to her – to surpass even Divine. This frightened Time. She warned him not to, but his ambition was boundless. He yearned for subjects to rule, so he created his Sons and Daughters."
"Rife, the god of Fire!" a woman called out.
"Raeth, the goddess of Land and Mountains!" an elder spoke reverently.
"Tewar, the goddess of Water," a hunter added with confidence.
"Hewar," the killer's voice was barely a whisper, "the god of Wind."
The chief nodded. "The Creator tasked them with forging something Divine never had. And they obeyed, working together to sculpt our world and its inhabitants. But we were a mystery to The Creator. He did not understand us, and so, he sought our destruction."
The flames dimmed, mirroring the growing tension. The chief's voice took on a grave tone. "But how could they allow it? Like a mother protecting her child, they fought for us, vanquishing The Creator."
The fire roared back to life, fuelled by cheers and hoots from the villagers. Delena, unable to contain her excitement, scrambled down and approached the chief. Before Sera could intervene, the little girl tugged at his robe. "Why didn't they kill The Creator?"
The chief knelt before her.
"Forgive her, she is new to our ways."
"No worries, little one," the chief smiled. "Curiosity is a virtue. Tell me, what do you like most about a tree?"
"Fruits!" Delena exclaimed without hesitation.
"Good. Now imagine this vast cosmos as a great forest, and our world is just one of its trees. Our gods and goddesses, the trunk and branches, and we are like the fruits and leaves. But The Creator, he is like the root system. What happens when the root fails?" The chief placed the powder in Delena's hand.
"The whole tree falls!" she declared, understanding dawning in her eyes. She looked at the powder, then back at the chief. "Can I?"
"Try it on a candle flame," the chief chuckled, directing her towards the fire.
As Delena scampered off, the chief clapped his hands, dusting off his robes.
"You think he's here, somewhere among us?" Sera blurted out, her fear finally escaping.
"Here? Unlikely. But he is out there, somewhere." He turned to her, his gaze piercing. "When he created his Sons and Daughters, he scattered his power of Creation amongst them. This imbalance birthed an unintended consequence – Destruction became stronger within him. Some whisper that this very Destruction fuelled his hatred for us, the fruits of his creation." The chief paused, tying his pouch closed. "Forgive me, on this night of storytelling, I find it hard to restrain myself."
"Please, continue," Sera pleaded, her heart pounding with every revelation. In her village, they believed mentioning The Creator was blasphemy, yet here, she was learning forbidden truths.
"You see," the chief resumed, "Divine was a complete being, holding both Creation and Destruction in perfect balance. But when Destruction began to overpower him, some say Time, fearing the cosmos would unravel, urged him to create The Creator and rest. This slowed Destruction's growth, but didn't eliminate it completely."
Sera leaned forward, captivated. "But with The Creator," she mused, "his Sons and Daughters weakened him further."
"Weakened isn't quite the word," the chief corrected. "I once met a traveler from far west, and we were both surprised by the similarities in our creation myths. Though he called The Creator by another name – Ka'ak. But there was something curious in his tale. He spoke of how his people believed the Sons and Daughters had sealed Ka'ak's powers with an elemental circlet."
"The circlet that changes with his emotions," Sera whispered, recognizing the symbol from the traveler's necklace.
The chief's eyes widened. "You know of this? Did the same traveller visit your village?"
Sera's mind raced. "How was he?" she asked, stalling. "This traveler?"
The chief chuckled. "A peculiar fellow, with sharp features, worn clothes, and patched trousers."
A cold dread washed over Sera. The description matched the man she met six years ago, the man who spoke of ending this world.
"And his hair?" she pressed, needing confirmation.
"Red, like blood," a new voice answered. The killer stood, approaching them.
In that moment, a horrifying truth shattered Sera's world. She, the killer, and the chief were all connected by their encounters with the same man – a man claiming to know the secrets of a vengeful Creator and wielding a mark fuelled by his wrath.