A voice echoed through the void, deep and resonant, carrying the weight of absolute authority. It was not a mere command but a declaration that shook the very fabric of the universe.
"Primordials, hear me," the voice echoed, deep and unyielding. "By my will, you are summoned. Gather at the third layer of space. The time has come to shape what must be."
The words were not spoken,they were felt, reverberating in the core of every primordial. It was a call that could not be ignored, a summons imbued with purpose and undeniable power.
Vastoth, who was stationed in the ninth layer of space, was immersed in the delicate intricacies of spatial laws when the voice tore through his mind. His colossal, whale-like form froze, the rippling void around him stilling for the first time in eons.
There was no hesitation in Vastoth. The one who had given him his domain, the vast expanse to govern and study, had spoken. He shifted his massive body, creating distortions in the surrounding void that stretched and twisted with his movement.
"The third layer," he murmured, his deep voice blending with the hum of space itself. Without another thought, Vastoth began his journey, the void bending and folding as he traversed through it with calculated purpose.
Timorath who finally found the river of time was abruptly Startled by the voice, his meticulous control of time faltered ,and the steady flow of moments he had so carefully tamed began to tremble and stutter, rippling unnaturally as the voice pierced his thoughts. He frowned, his face evident with irritation.
"After eons of silence, now?" he muttered, his golden eyes narrowing. Time itself whispered its secrets to him, yet even it could not predict why the Will chose this moment to call. Timorath felt the weight of the summons, but he did not move immediately.
He stood at the edge of the river of time, watching the fragmented paths of time ripple before him. "He demands us to the third layer? Fine. But I will take my time arriving." He stepped into the stream, vanishing into a swirl of gold and silver light, moving with deliberate slowness toward the call.
Kismetor, in the form of a massive, shifting bird, perched on a fading star, his sharp beak tapping idly against its surface. He was bored, the vast emptiness of space offering little to amuse him. With a sigh, he plunged his beak into the star, ripping free a chunk of molten energy and swallowing it lazily.
The voice came suddenly, booming through his mind, cutting through the monotony. Kismetor froze, the light of the dying star reflecting in his restless eyes. "Him" he muttered, a flicker of interest breaking through his boredom. "About time something happened."
Unfolding his radiant wings, he left the dimming star behind, flying toward the third layer with a chaotic energy rippling in his wake. "Let's see what He wants."
Eryndral stood over her star forge, the roar of fire and molten metal dimming as the voice filled her mind. "The Creator's voice." Her fiery eyes flared, and her molten body surged with energy.
There was no question, no doubt. If the Creator had spoken, it was not for her to hesitate or question. "The third layer," she said softly, the flames around her intensifying as if sharing her resolve.
Without a second thought, Eryndral stepped forward, leaving her forge to cool for the first time in eons. Her fiery form blazed brightly as she streaked toward the third layer, a comet of molten power cutting through the void.
In the cold expanse of the deepest void, Vyrinox uncoiled, his serpentine body stretching lazily. His scales shimmered with starlight, reflecting the infinite blackness around him.
"So, He returns," Vyrinox thought, his voice a quiet hiss in his own mind. "And here I thought He had forgotten us."
Unlike the others, Vyrinox did not rush. He slithered through the void, his movements graceful and unhurried. "If the Creator has waited eons to speak, He can wait a little longer for me to arrive," he murmured, a faint smirk curling through his thoughts.
The primordials moved, each in their own way, some cutting spatial tears through the void with brute force, others gliding effortlessly through its folds. Some traveled alone, their thoughts silent and focused, while others briefly crossed paths, exchanging words before continuing. The vastness of space trembled under their power, and the layers between realms rippled as they converged, answering the Creator's call after eons of silence.
Lex, situated at the third layer, sat upon a throne forged entirely of pure Origin Energy. The throne radiated power, its presence commanding the immense hall of a palace unparalleled in stature and strength. The grand structure, crafted by Lex's hand, seemed to pulse with the universe's essence, a testament to his unmatched authority.
Within the hall, scattered around the vast space, were seats fashioned from the rarest and most precious materials in universe. Each one bore intricate designs, reflecting Lex's meticulous craftsmanship. These seats, though secondary to the throne, exuded an aura of importance.
Lex sat in silence on the throne, his gaze fixed ahead, calm yet purposeful. The air around him hummed faintly with energy, waiting, as he did, for their arrival.
The first to arrive was Vastoth. As he approached the third layer, his vast, whale-like form caught sight of the immense palace. Despite its grandeur, its size seemed minuscule compared to his colossal being. He drifted closer to the palace, the fabric of space distorting with his every movement.
Then, without warning, his form began to transform His body shrank and morphed, taking on a humanoid shape. The transformation was sudden, jarring. Vastoth stumbled slightly, his newly-formed hands trembling. A chill ran down his spine, and sweat formed on his brow,an unfamiliar sensation for a being like him. The experience left him both awed and unsettled.
Steadying himself, he pushed forward, stepping through the entrance of the palace. Inside, his gaze fell upon the scattered seats, each radiating a distinct energy. But what truly left him speechless was the sight of Lex, seated on the throne of pure Origin Energy.
Sitting on the throne of pure Origin Energy, Lex radiated an aura that defied comprehension. The throne pulsed like a living entity, its energy woven with the fabric of creation itself. Lex's form was surrounded by an almost imperceptible glow, as if the universe bent to accommodate his presence. His calm yet commanding posture made the air around him feel heavier, as though the very essence of Universe recognized and bowed to his authority.
What struck Vastoth most was Lex's gaze,serene, all-knowing, yet carrying an intensity that seemed to pierce through time and space. For a moment, Vastoth felt small, insignificant, despite his mastery over the spatial laws. It wasn't just power he saw in Lex; it was the unshakable presence of a being who had not only created the universe but who understood and controlled it in ways Vastoth could never fathom.
It was awe-inspiring, and for the first time in eons, Vastoth found himself without words.
The second to arrive was Eryndral. Her blazing, fiery form streaked across the void, illuminating the entrance of the palace as she descended. As she neared, her flames flickered and condensed, her form shifting into that of a humanoid figure engulfed in controlled fire. The transformation left her slightly disoriented, but she quickly steadied herself and entered the grand hall.
Her gaze immediately locked onto the seats scattered across the hall, each radiating a unique energy and crafted from the rarest materials in existence. The gleam of precious metals and gemstones stirred something primal within her,a deep, insatiable greed. Her molten lips parted slightly, and she realized, with some embarrassment, that she was salivating at the sight of the treasures.
But as her eyes darted between the seats, the heavy aura of the palace reminded her of where she was. Her instincts screamed caution, and the fear of overstepping curbed her impulses, though her greedy gaze lingered. She clenched her fists, trying to quell the temptation.
Vastoth, already seated and observing her, raised an eyebrow in disbelief. For a being of her stature and renown, to be so visibly swayed by greed in this sacred moment was baffling. "Eryndral," he rumbled, his deep voice laced with astonishment, "even here, in His presence, you let such base desires surface?"
Eryndral shot him a sharp glance, her fiery eyes flaring for a moment. "I am merely appreciating His work," she retorted, though the faint flicker of embarrassment in her flames betrayed her words.
Lex watched the scene unfold with quiet amusement, a faint smile playing on his lips, though it was concealed by the glowing mist that occasionally drifted across his face. The mist, a deliberate creation, was there to enhance his grandeur, giving his presence an air of mystery and authority.
Eryndral, feeling the weight of the moment, approached one of the seats. Her flames had dimmed slightly, as if mirroring her inner turmoil. She sat gracefully, her expression respectful, though her mind churned with embarrassment. "I disgraced myself," she thought, the memory of her momentary greed burning brighter than her flames. She cast a glance toward Lex, wondering if he had noticed. His glowing visage revealed nothing, yet she felt the silent weight of his amusement.
One by one, the other primordials arrived, their immense forms descending upon the third layer. Some of them came alone, their movements deliberate and silent, while others arrived in pairs or small groups, their presences rippling through the void as they neared the palace.
The transformation awaited them all. As they stepped closer, their vast, incomprehensible forms began to shift, condensing into humanoid shapes. For many, the change was jarring, stripping them of the limitless power they had wielded for eons. Those who were prideful buried their arrogance deep within, forced to accept this moment of vulnerability.
Kismetor, whose chaotic energy flared in protest, grumbled as his vibrant bird-like form condensed into a humanoid figure with shimmering, feathered hair. "This feels… unnatural," he muttered, casting a wary glance toward the palace. His irritation dissipated when he caught sight of Lex's glowing throne, its overwhelming presence silencing his rebellion.
Timorath entered shortly after, his normally ethereal figure flickering as he adjusted to his newfound form. He said nothing, but the furrow of his brow betrayed his frustration at feeling momentarily powerless.
Vyrinox slithered into the hall alongside Umbryal, his serpentine body twisting and shrinking into a tall, humanoid figure with serpent-like features. His golden eyes narrowed as he studied the palace. "He makes us lower ourselves," he hissed quietly to Umbryal, though he made no move to resist.
One by one, they took their seats, their expressions ranging from cautious respect to begrudging submission. The grand hall grew heavier with their presence, yet none dared to meet Lex's gaze directly. The glowing mist around his face moved with an almost playful rhythm, concealing the faint smile that lingered as he observed their reactions.