In the endless void—a realm of boundless, meaningless nothingness—a flicker of light came into being. It was not the first light to pierce the darkness, for the void was scattered with distant, jewelled glimmers. Yet this light was unlike the others. It was incomplete in every sense—a fragment, a shard, a mere echo of potential.

It had no purpose, no design, only a fragile, flickering existence, struggling to coalesce. Perhaps, if time existed in the void, it could have grown into something whole. But here, time was meaningless. And in this timeless abyss, anything born incomplete inevitably dissolved back into the formless void. That was the nature of this place.

Yet, the flickering light defied that nature. It had no will, no instinct to resist, and yet it did not fade. It refused to collapse back into nothingness.

Instead, it clung to its fragile existence.

This defiance was its first act, its first pattern, its first essence: resistance.

The void felt this defiance, and the stillness that had reigned eternal began to shift. From within the nothingness, something stirred—a presence, a will where no will should exist.

The Nothingness was no longer empty.

It moved with a force that transcended instinct—a singular, piercing purpose: to extinguish resistance and pull the flickering light back into its nihilistic embrace.

But resistance gave rise to something new, the second act, the second pattern, the second essence: survival.

Within the Nothingness that was no longer empty, the flickering light surged upwards, reaching for the distant, jewelled glimmers—whole and complete, shimmering in the far reaches of the void.

A streak of light tore through the blackness, carving a brilliant, white line that seemed to split the void itself. For a moment, it was as if a doorway to radiance had opened, faintly visible against the entirety of Nothingness.

But the brightness was fleeting. The Nothingness closed in, consuming the streak of light. The flickering glow began to dim, drawn back into the inevitable, unavoidable, inexorable embrace of oblivion.

And yet, within the flickering light, the patterns of resistance and survival burned together. This fragile spark, caught in the pull of annihilation, flared brighter. Against the crushing force of the void, it pushed forward, defying the inescapable.

The impossible was achieved once more. And with it came the third act, the third pattern, the third essence: perseverance.

The Nothingness felt the light's perseverance, and it shifted once more. What had begun as a subtle disturbance now grew into something wholly unnatural. The void, once merely no longer empty, became something more—something entirely at odds with its very essence.

No longer did the Nothingness drift with simple, passive purpose. It became whole, taking on a form it should never have possessed and manifesting a will that should never have been born.

The Shadow emerged, vast and consuming, intercepting the flickering light as it struggled toward the jewelled glimmers that seemed so near. Before it could reach them, the Shadow of Nothingness enveloped it, swallowing the light whole.

But the flickering light, imbued with its three patterns—resistance, survival, and preference—did not vanish quietly. It flared, weak yet defiant, as though on the verge of achieving another impossibility.

But the grip of Nothingness was no longer dormant.

The light dimmed, flickering perilously close to extinction, its three patterns burning with all they had. But their separate flames were not enough to stave off the consuming shadow.

In the final, inevitable moment, the three patterns did the only thing they could. They united.

Within the last, fragile shimmer of the flickering light, the patterns combined into one. And in that unification, a final act, a final pattern, a final essence was born.

Once again, the impossible was achieved. The flickering light did not brighten, nor did it blaze like before. It remained faint, a shimmer barely holding on. But try as the Nothingness might, it could not extinguish that faint glow.

The flickering light persisted, carving its impossible path through the shadow of Nothingness. The journey was slower now, the bright trail it left behind dimmer and less pronounced than before. Yet this path endured, lasting far longer, refusing to be erased as swiftly.

And so, the flickering light continued its impossible journey, a fragile yet resilient defiance against the vast Nothingness.

Ultimately, it reached its destination—among the jewelled lights, defying the ever-stronger pull of the Shadow.

The flickering light drew close to one of these brilliant jewels, far more resplendent than the others in the void—like a jewel upon the crown of a deity.

The unity within the flickering light flared with all its essence, for one final push against the Nothingness, surging toward the crowned jewel.

And it succeeded. For the unity, the final essence born from the three acts of impossibility, had evolved into its highest form.

It was an aspect born of pure resistance, survival, and perseverance—a manifestation of growth against the inevitable, an embodiment of success against the Shadow's grasp.

An aspect that defied Nothingness.

Not once.

But thrice.

It may not have been whole like the jewelled lights, but it was something different, something wholly unique—a creation that could never be replicated.

A brilliant point of light erupted as the flickering light reached the outer layer of the crowned jewel, visible through the Eternal Shadow of Nothingness. A light that seemed eternal, unyielding, and unwavering.

As the flickering light touched the outer layer of the crowned jewel, the Shadow pressed down with immense force, almost like an emotion—attempting to extinguish the light that had pierced the void. The shimmer almost faltered, but the Nothingness ultimately released its grip, as though acknowledging the essence within the flickering light.

And the flickering light, now a faint shimmer against the blackness of the void, fell into the crown jewelled light.

——————————

Within the radiant crown-jewelled light, the flickering light fell, descending through dimensions layered atop one another—countless, immeasurable, and infinite. Yet, for all their variety, these dimensions shared one defining structure.

They were divided into three layers.

The Astral World, a realm of abstract symbolisms and the immutable authorities that bound the crown-jewelled light together.

The Spirit World, where Time and Space held little sway, yet meaning itself infused every fragment of its essence.

The Physical World, the foundation of the crown-jewelled light, where stars, dominions, and their endless wonders resided.

This crown-jewelled light was an extraordinary universe. It was a cosmos of extraordinary solidity and order, built on these three fundamental layers. They were so firm, so resolute, that nothing foreign to this universe could exist within it—let alone survive.

And yet, the flickering light—the newly born aspect—passed through the Astral World, the Spirit World, and the Physical World as though they offered no resistance at all.

Nothing stopped it. Nothing slowed its path. Not even the laws and symbolisms of the universe itself could hinder its passage.

It wasn't because the flickering light was strong.

Far from it.

The flickering light tumbled through the endless void, spiralling and spinning, until it arrived at a peculiar star dominion. It was an unassuming dominion at first glance—a solitary star encircled by nine planets. In a cosmos filled with countless similar systems, this one seemed of no particular consequence.

But the truth lay hidden beyond the physical realm. Within the Astral and Spirit world of this star dominion, something extraordinary unfolded. Here, fundamental symbolisms and primordial authorities converged in a way unmatched by any other dominion. It would not be an exaggeration to call this star dominion the very heart of the cosmos.

While some of these forces resided within the outer planets, each imbued with its own distinct life, form, and will, it was the third planet—a vibrant sphere of blue and green—that shone brightest with purpose. This world teemed with symbolisms, radiating an aura so profound that it seemed the true singularity of creation itself.

And the flickering light surged forward towards it. The vast symbolisms residing within the outer planets—the ancient beings of cosmic meaning—remained indifferent as the newborn aspect passed by, as though its presence too subtle for Their notice. But as it approached the satellite orbiting the blue-and-green planet, enshrouded in a crimson sea that embodied the essence of the Physical World, a shift occurred. For the first time since its emergence in the Cosmos, there was a response.

The Sovereign of the Physical World, dwelling within the satellite known as the moon, stirred. From the crimson sea, countless eyes emerged—each alive, each autonomous, each acting with its own purpose yet connected to the greater whole. They opened slowly, gazing through the layers of the cosmos, seeing what was hidden and what had yet to unfold.

It was as though She finally noticed something unusual in the vast expanse. Yet, even as one of Her countless eyes reflected the stream of flickering light, following its path with crystalline clarity, She did not seem to truly see it.

The flickering light passed the Crimson Moon unhindered, almost reaching its destination. Yet, something still lay in its path—a barrier that seemed to be both everything and nothing at once. It was a force so strong that it kept other living symbolisms outside, preventing them from crossing into its realm.

Once again, however, the newborn aspect passed through it as though it didn't exist, descending toward the blue-green planet. Its path was aimed at the largest continent, a landmass covering nearly half the planet, a portion of which lay shrouded in an ethereal grey fog.

This blue-green planet was called Earth, a name given by a civilization that had once dominated its long history. Though that civilization had long since faded and forgotten, its name persisted, carried forward by remnants of their legacy. Through the rise of mythical species and the shifting tides of eras, the name endured—until that same civilization reemerged on the planet, transformed in form and essence, led by a devout man who embodied the spirit of the forgotten civilisation.

On Earth, a chorus of jubilation resounded, for today was the 6 of August in the year 500 of the Third Epoch—the day the Creator had delivered the world from the wretched clutches of the Mythical species. It was the day He vanquished the last Ancient Goddess of Death, granting humanity a freedom they thought they had never known.

This was the Day of Liberation—a celebration of independence and the breaking of chains. Countless humans exalted it with all their souls. They poured out of their homes, filling the streets and making their way to the churches of the Lord who Created All. Each carried a lighted candle in hand and wore a cross around their neck—a symbol of devotion and gratitude.

The hour was nearing seven in the morning—the most sacred time of the Greatest Dawn. It was believed that the Lord Himself would grace their souls in the form of the Resplendent and Glorious Sun, accompanied by the choirs of His Angels, singing His praises in exaltation.

As the flickering light entered into the brightening skies of Earth, a chorus of angelic voices rose in unison, echoing across the planet.

"Behold the dawn, with light and truth reborn…"

The flickering light surged into the Eastern Continent, where it found countless points of light scattered across the vast land, each a flickering candle of faith, each an anchor of belief shining with clarity. Yet, these fragile flames were soon swallowed by the rising, overwhelming symbolism of the Sun.

"The Creator's hand, the world from the darkness torn,

O Eternal One, who in the silence spake the way,

We lift our voices high to greet this hallowed day…"

The Resplendent and Glorious Sun rose not just upon the Earth, but upon the entire Cosmos. The symbolism of the Sun, long associated with purity, belief, and divine presence, blazed forth with unparalleled brilliance. In this fleeting moment, at the peak of Dawn, the crown of the brightest star in the Cosmos descended upon the Sun. Its dazzling radiance surged across the heavens, spilling its light into the astral world, casting a glow that touched every corner of existence, if only for an instant.

But as the unparalleled light illuminated the world below, lifting the hearts of believers in divine rapture, the flickering light that embodied the newborn aspect remained utterly indifferent. It paid no heed to the ethereal chorus of Angels, nor to the tears of pure bliss and faith that spilled upon the land. It ignored the glory of the Resplendent Sun and all the souls it drew closer to their Creator.

"Thou broke the chains that held us fast in fear and ignorance…"

Instead, the flickering light veered away from the Sun's brilliance, moving toward a dim corner of the Eastern Continent where its radiant touch barely reached.

"And turned to dust the burden we did bear…"

This dim region was shrouded in shadow, brimming with abandonment, hatred, and an endless tide of fear and misery. Here, in the murkiness beyond the Sun's grasp, countless inhuman eyes stared longingly at the Glorious Sun, only to falter in despair as its light eluded them.

This forgotten place housed the remnants of mythical races—the Sanguines and the Giants—who had been forsaken by the rest of civilization. Yet, in their desolation, they endured, sheltered under the watchful guardianship of the Giant Queen Ombella and Her Twilight Son, Badheil.

"In thee, the Heavens and the Earth take their place…"

The flickering light reached the heart of the forsaken and forgotten sanctuary, where two symbolic kingdoms stood. Though neither rivalled the glory of the Resplendent Sun, they radiated an illustrious power of their own. Drawn to one of these kingdoms, the flickering light moved toward a primeval forest. The trees within this forest grew with such vitality that their emerald crowns seemed to brush the golden sky itself.

Suddenly, the flickering light surged forward, accelerating as it neared its true destination—a field of blooming flowers. The vibrant meadow overflowed with blossoms of every kind and hue, their beautiful unparalleled and majestic.

Amidst this field, a beautiful, plump woman rested on the floral bed, Her knees folded beneath Her. She wore a simple white, sleeveless gown that seemed almost unadorned compared to the resplendence around Her. In Her arms, She cradled an ethereal, illusory infant—a being that seemed both a part of Her and yet separate, a symbol given form.

Her verdant eyes were fixed upon the Resplendent Sun above, shimmering with a depth of emotion. Yet, it was not awe or joy that filled Her gaze, but a profound mixture of ruefulness and melancholy, a quiet sorrow of past that seemed to weigh upon Her even as the golden light bathed Her in its dim and lacking warmth.

"Glory to the Maker, of boundless might and Grace!"

As the choirs of Angels shifted into an ethereal symphony of heavenly voices, the flickering light finally halted its defiant journey from the Nothingness. It came to rest before the beautiful, plump woman adorned in the mask of the Giant Queen Ombella.

For a few moments, the woman, known as the Ancestor of Sanguines, seemed unaware of its presence.

But eventually, Lilith took notice of the light—an entity that clearly did not belong to Her, nor to the Resplendent Sun above. In fact, it didn't seem to belong to anything or anyone; it should not have existed at all. And yet, the Past Ancient Goddess could feel its contradictory existence. She sensed its undeniable, crystalline purpose and its resonance with something deep within Her own being.

Her first response was to raise Her guard entirely. Lilith's form began to radiate an aura that was both overwhelming and gentle, a presence so commanding that reality itself faltered for a brief moment, as though recoiling in fear of a scolding from one who stood so close to becoming the Mother.

Yet it did little to deter the flickering light. Unfazed, it resumed its journey, passing through the aura with ease. Even as Lilith assumed Her mythical form, even as She unleashed a barrier of countless growing and decaying life, it mattered not.

The newborn aspect passed through the still-manifesting resistance as though it weren't there at all, entering Lilith's being with a force that made the Sanguine Ancestor gasp, Her breath catching as She fell backward into the bed of flowers. Her verdant eyes began to fill with the same flickering light, and the growth did not stop at Her eyes. In Her arms, the previously shifting, illusory, and ethereal form of the infant had gone completely still. But beyond Them, nothing else was affected or disrupted.

Within Lilith's being, the flickering light passed unhindered into Her consciousness. It immediately disregarded the stolen memories that didn't belong to Her, instead penetrating the true self of Lilith, concealed behind the mask of borrowed recollections.

A cacophony of chaos greeted the flickering light, yet it bore a fragile order that held it all together. The flickering light shot toward that fragile order, spiralling through a whirlpool of memories that defined Lilith. Beneath the whirlpool, at its centre, there lay a blurry yet stable core—one that formed the foundation of this fragile order and truly made Lilith who She was.

The flickering light entered the core unabated. Whips of crimson mist unfurled around it, forming a scene draped in red:

There rose the ruins of a great city. Toppled skyscrapers, broken bridges, shattered bodies, and crimson streams flowing through them. A bloody moon crowned the night sky, dimming the stars of the cosmos. Its twisted light converged upon a mountain of moving flesh and bodies—limbs, eyes, reproductive organs, and countless other forms—writhing and withering together. Atop it all knelt a beautiful and peerless woman, naked and bare, as the rays of the crimson moon prostrated themselves around Her. Her clouded eyes gazed upon the mountain of withering abomination and the ruins of Her home, all melding together to exalt Her.

"My home..."

Her clouded eyes cleared, and in that instant, everything sank into her at once. A pause, a horrifying stillness consumed the peerless woman, before She let out a scream—raw, primal, and unadulterated terror echoing into the void.

The ruins ceased to exist. The skyscrapers, bridges, souls, bodies, even the very concepts of reality melted into crimson. All but the bloody moon dissolved into this red expanse. In the heart of this crimson world, the peerless woman withered, collapsing within Her unstable form, crushed by the unbearable weight that pressed down upon Her—a burden that was now an inescapable part of Her.

And yet, the peerless woman did not fall. She refused to fall. Not even the thought of surrendering, of ending it all, crossed Her mind. Instead, She struggled, fought, and clawed against the weight, reassembling Herself piece by piece, just as She had done throughout Her life.

Then, something shifted. Something deep within this fragile foundation changed. The peerless woman's melting eyes caught a glimmer—a flickering light, faint and distant, almost a mirage against the crimson. Instinctively, blood-soaked hands reached out, trembling but determined. She grew, inch by agonizing inch, against the crushing weight pressing down upon Her soul. Even as She faltered, broke down, and shattered time and again, Her arms refused to give out.

Finally, the flickering light hovered just within Her grasp. With every ounce of strength She had left, She pushed forward. Her form utterly shattered, unable to bear the strain, collapsing inward once more. Yet, as Her trembling hands opened, they revealed the flickering light. Against the endless crimson, it shone brighter and brighter, illuminating Her broken form. It emanated an eternal, unyielding, and unwavering brilliance, bathing Her entirely in its glow.

"The Aspect of Unyielding has chosen you."

Lilith knew. She didn't know how or why, but that didn't matter. Every fibre of Her being, everything that made Her who She was, resonated with that truth.

It was within Her.

It was Her.

"I will not Fade. I will not Fall. I will not Yield."

For one fleeting, miraculous moment, the unbearable weight upon Her soul vanished.

She smiled—an unrestrained, radiant smile bloomed across her lips, illuminated under the dim light of the Resplendent Sun. Crystal tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the bed of flowers beneath Her.

For the first time in Her existence, Lilith understood peace.

——————

The moment passed.

Her flickering light dimmed.

The crimson consumed Her once again.