In the time before time, when darkness and silence cradled the infinite void, there existed only the primordial force known as Aetheris. Aetheris was not a god, nor a creature, nor even a spirit, but an endless breath—an eternal wind that roamed the empty expanses, boundless and unshaped. For eons, it swirled through the abyss, restless yet without form, seeking something unknown.
But there was nothing. No stars to dance upon, no mountains to caress, no oceans to ripple. Aetheris was alone, a breath exhaled into an endless night with no lungs to call its home. And so, in its solitude, Aetheris grew weary, its currents slowing, its vastness dimming.
In that moment of weariness, from the deep and hidden heart of the void, a single pulse echoed—a beat so faint, it might have been mistaken for a memory. This pulse, though barely there, was enough to stir Aetheris from its long wandering slumber. And from the interaction of the endless breath and the pulse came a trembling spark.
This spark, tiny yet fierce, flared with a heat unlike any Aetheris had ever known. It was the first light, and from it burst forth Kalliros, the Flame of Origins. Kalliros burned with an insatiable desire to grow, to consume, and to create. Where Aetheris was the formless, invisible breath, Kalliros was fire incarnate, crackling with energy, desperate to bring form to the shapeless.
In the first moments of Kalliros' birth, flames licked out into the void, casting shadows on the nothingness, turning the abyss into something—a chaotic swirl of fire and heat. Aetheris recoiled, astonished by this new presence. It had never encountered such force, such raw power. But as the flames spread, so did the chaos. Uncontrolled, Kalliros threatened to consume the very breath that had given it life.
Seeing this, Aetheris wove itself into the fire, not to extinguish it, but to temper it. It whispered to Kalliros, calming the wild flames, guiding them, shaping them. The wind and fire began to work together, not as rivals but as creators. From the fusion of breath and flame, the first matter was born: Gaethra, the Stone Mother, whose body formed the foundation of all things.
Gaethra emerged from the molten heat, her form solidifying beneath the swirling breaths of Aetheris. She was vast, her skin hard as iron and warm as the embers from which she arose. With her body, she carved the first mountains, pressed the first valleys, and molded the first lands. Her hair fell like rivers of molten rock, which cooled into stone beneath Aetheris' breath. She was the ground upon which all future life would tread, the spine of creation.
But Gaethra was alone in her stillness, and the fire of Kalliros that had forged her now threatened to crack her stony form. The heat was too great. So, Aetheris once more exhaled, this time with greater force, and from its breath came Thalor, the Ocean Father. Thalor roared into being, his voice the first thunder, his body made of waters unending, rushing to cool the world. He spread himself over Gaethra's surface, filling her valleys with oceans and covering her lands with the rains of life.
Thalor's waters tamed the fiery essence of Kalliros, shaping the world into a place of balance—where land met sea, where flame met air. But where there was balance, there was still emptiness. The world was raw, beautiful, but barren.
It was then that Sylvaine, the Lifebringer, was born from the merging mist of Thalor's waters and Aetheris' breath. She was the essence of life itself, the one who could weave the energy of creation into flesh and root. Sylvaine's laughter was the first birdsong, her tears the first dew upon Gaethra's rocky skin. She danced across the land, her footsteps birthing trees, flowers, and creatures of every kind. The forests grew in her wake, the oceans teemed with life, and the sky became filled with birds whose wings were touched by the breath of Aetheris.
As Sylvaine's creations flourished, Kalliros, still burning at the heart of the world, was at peace. His flames now fed the core of Gaethra, providing the warmth and energy necessary for life. Aetheris continued to guide the winds and currents, ensuring the balance of all things. Thalor's waters nurtured the growing world, and Gaethra stood firm, supporting the weight of creation.
The world was young, but it was alive. It was a canvas of life painted by breath, fire, stone, and sea.
The First Beings
Yet even with life teeming across the land and sea, there was something missing. Sylvaine's creatures, though beautiful and full of vitality, lacked the spark of true awareness. They wandered the world, bound by instinct, unaware of the majesty that surrounded them.
It was then that Aetheris, in a moment of divine inspiration, exhaled once more. This breath, unlike the ones before it, was filled with a new purpose. It carried within it the essence of thought, of reason, and of spirit. As the breath of Aetheris passed over the world, it touched certain beings—some in the forests, some in the seas, some in the caves deep within Gaethra's body.
These beings stirred, their eyes opening with a new light. They were the first sentient creatures, the El'vrynn, the Drahl, the Maren, and the Essenir, each shaped by the element that had birthed them. The El'vrynn were the children of Sylvaine, living in the forests and speaking with the trees. The Drahl came from the depths of Gaethra, creatures of stone and earth. The Maren danced in Thalor's waters, their skin shimmering like the seas, and the Essenir rode the winds of Aetheris, unseen and untouchable, spirits of the sky.
Together, these beings would shape the destiny of the world, their lives intertwined with the elements that had birthed them. And thus, the world of Aethera began its long journey, a world of balance, beauty, and untold stories, forged from the breath of a timeless wind and the fire of creation itself.
The age of myths had begun.