It began as all endings do: with a mistake.
The Void Walkers—immortal, eternal, and unknowable—had not always been this way. Once, they were mortal. They had names spoken with reverence in their crumbled world, names that inspired hope and fear alike. But power has a way of changing all things, and in their unrelenting quest to break the boundaries of life, they had shattered their home instead.
The Void Walkers were gods now, yes, but gods who carried ruin in their hands.
---
It was **Eidryn** who spoke first, her voice cutting through the hollow silence of the Void. She stood among the others, her presence calm yet commanding, as though she alone held the pieces of an unspoken plan. Her silhouette was sharp, unnaturally still against the swirling expanse of formless white.
"We owe it to them," she said softly. Her voice echoed, despite the emptiness. "We failed them, but we can create something new. A world where our mistakes are not repeated."
Around her stood the six other survivors—each of them shaped by the Void in their own way. They were more than mortal now, but their humanity lingered in fragments, buried beneath centuries of unending regret.
**Selca** shifted uneasily, her luminous features flickering like light on water. "A new world?" she whispered, her voice betraying her doubts. She had been the one to balance their world once, ensuring all things lived in harmony. Yet, she still remembered its fall—the screams of the animals she had shaped, the silence of the forests when their light went out. "And what of the corruption that lingers within us? Can we truly cleanse it?"
Eidryn turned toward her, her gaze unwavering. "We must try."
From the shadows at the edge of the gathering came a growl. **Lethis**, clad in blackened armor and wreathed in smoke, stood with his arms crossed, his helm obscuring his expression. "And what happens when we fail again?" he rumbled. "What happens when this new creation turns to ruin? How many times must we play at being gods before we accept the truth?"
"The truth," Eidryn said sharply, "is that our failure does not absolve us of our responsibility. We cannot let this emptiness remain."
Lethis said nothing, but the shadows around him thickened, roiling with discontent.
It was **Oras** who stepped forward next, his massive hands trembling as though he could already feel the weight of creation. Oras was the gentle one, the builder—he had crafted mountains, carved rivers, shaped entire continents with his bare hands. "We will do better this time," he said quietly, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "We must."
From where he stood apart, **Vyris** scoffed. The chaos-bearer, the stormmaker—Vyris was a tempest wrapped in a man's form, his every movement sharp and restless. His golden eyes crackled with energy as he regarded the others. "Do better? What a foolish sentiment. The Void *itself* tainted us. We cannot build anything pure."
Eidryn met his defiance with calm determination. "Then we will oversee it. We will not abandon our creation as we did before. We will *watch.*"
The last of them remained silent, their roles already clear. **Rynel**, the dreamer, whose visions spanned past, present, and the unknown future, sat at the edge of the Void, staring into nothing. She was listening for something—perhaps for a whisper of the world that had been lost. Beside her stood **Kaelen**, the keeper of order, a quiet and stern figure whose expression rarely changed. If Selca brought balance, Kaelen brought *law.*
In the end, it was decided.
---
Their work began, and eons passed in silence.
**Oras** began by pulling matter from the fabric of the Void, shaping raw earth and stone into a canvas upon which life could flourish. Mountains rose under his hands—jagged peaks capped in frost, silent witnesses to the age of beginnings. Rivers followed, winding their silver threads through valleys and plains, feeding the land with their song.
Where Oras shaped, **Selca** followed. She moved like light across the still world, her touch awakening life in every corner. Flowers unfurled beneath her feet, their petals brilliant as sunrise. Trees stretched skyward, leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Animals emerged, blinking into existence—birds that filled the skies with music, wolves that ran through shaded forests, fish that danced in clear waters. Selca created harmony, ensuring every creature found its place.
High above the land, **Vyris** gave the world its heartbeat. He shattered the formless dark with fire, his laughter echoing as the heavens lit up with stars—great wheels of light that spun endlessly, a celestial dance of flame and brilliance. He pulled a sun from the Void's depths, its golden rays pouring warmth across Oras's earth and Selca's forests.
The world grew more beautiful with each passing age. **Kaelen** stepped forward to bring order. He sculpted time itself, dividing the light of Vyris's sun into day and night. Seasons followed—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—a perfect cycle to balance Selca's creatures. Rules were etched into the very bones of creation, unseen yet unbreakable.
And finally, Eidryn gave the world its soul.
---
Solaris was born in a moment of light so brilliant that the Void recoiled. She was the first and greatest of the world souls, her essence woven from Eidryn's hope and the purity of their shared dream. Solaris ascended to the heavens, her radiance casting away all shadows.
Her light breathed life into every corner of creation. The mountains Oras had shaped now glimmered with veins of precious stone. Forests grew denser, their canopies shimmering with gold-drenched leaves. Selca's creatures thrived, their fur and feathers marked with faint traces of Solaris's glow. Even the oceans—vast and fathomless—reflected her brilliance, waves rolling like liquid light.
The world was alive, and the Void Walkers, for a time, allowed themselves to hope.
---
But the Void remembers.
Selca was the first to sense it. While tending to a glade where starlight pooled like water, she noticed a deer with empty black eyes. It did not move. It only stared. Elsewhere, the rivers darkened, carrying whispers of something Selca could not name.
She went to Eidryn. "Something is wrong," she said, her voice tight with unease. "The creatures—some are changing. It feels like corruption."
Eidryn frowned, but before she could reply, Solaris cried out.
The sound was like nothing they had ever heard—sharp, sorrowful, and vast enough to fracture mountains.
---
Solaris hovered in the heavens, her light flickering as fractures spread across her radiant form. The Void had found her. Its darkness seeped into the edges of her being, twisting her brilliance into shadow.
The Void Walkers gathered below, helpless as Solaris began to shatter.
"No!" Eidryn cried. "We can save her—"
But Solaris knew there was no saving herself. In the moments before her fall, she made her choice.
*Protect them.*
Her light burst forth in one final, blinding explosion. Shards of her essence rained down like falling stars, embedding themselves in the beings she had loved most—Selca's creatures, Oras's mountains, even the mortals who had begun to tread upon the land.
The Void Walkers watched, stunned, as the world absorbed Solaris's sacrifice. Her light lingered, holding creation together.
---
It was Lethis who spoke first, his voice hollow. "She is gone."
Eidryn shook her head, tears streaking her face. "No. She lives on. In them."
The corruption remained, yes—festering deep within the earth where the Void still touched—but Solaris's light endured in the hearts of mortals, in the veins of stone, in the songs of birds that carried her echoes.
"She saved it," Selca whispered.
Kaelen stared at the land below, his expression unreadable. "For now."
The Void Walkers withdrew. One by one, they turned their backs on the world they had shaped, carrying their grief into the silence of the Void.
But Solaris's gift remained. The world lived, fragile yet defiant, its fate carried by the shards of light that had fallen to the earth.
And in the shadows where corruption lingered, demons began to rise.
---
The Void Walkers abandoned their creation, but they did not forget it. From the depths of nothingness, they watched as mortals fought against the darkness, carrying the embers of Solaris's hope.
In time, those shards would become heroes and monsters alike.