Even time itself once had a beginning.
It was born by divine hands, similar to how all of creation was born.
Like all other things, time had a creator, who wove reality and intertwined golden threads through all of it, creating all of existence.
The golden hands who had performed this miracle, on the scale of the entire universe, were the Gods, and the Twelve Gods in particular.
Twelve of them, with each three having their respective affinity and dominion over existence.
The Three Gods of Lifegiving, for example, first nurtured nature, then the humans, and then the animals.
Then they placed these three aspects into a land created by the Three Gods of Worldbearing, of strife and chaos, expecting them to survive somehow. And, due to a fortunate stroke of luck, the three different types of beings did eventually survive the chaos, and co-existed naturally, with a few humans even ascending the road to semi-godhood after slaying the strongest evils and obtaining the grandest gift of the Divine Sovereigns.
Great Runes, made of the golden blood of the unknown, eldritch beings. Sacred items, which were carved out of the flesh of beings, beings which were often called; Calamities.
The lands soon grew as time passed, and these demi-gods became known as Great Monarchs, ruling over the Seryon Continent of Conquered Strife.
***
"…" A young man remained silent, as he slowly read the contents of a book he had found in his town's local library, named, "The Records of Heroes."
As he sat by his wooden desk, in a small bedroom with only an old patterned carpet, a porcelain plant pot by the window, and a wardrobe, all of which belonged to him, the glinting stars that peered from behind the clouds quietly stared into the bedroom and directly at him, from behind the curtains that veiled it.
On this night, the stars were staring only at him as he read about the past.
Of the ancient heroes that the bards and poets often sang about in the streets, the slayer knights that slayed Drakes and Wyrms, and the majesties and kings that fought against the Living Nightmares, in other words, the Daemons of Imagination that served the Fell Titan; a Calamity.
His father was also one of these warriors, wed to a dead woman; a harlot who died soon after birthing Silver and his sister as twins. However, that drunkard would never be great enough to be featured in a book of this magnitude. His greatest feat would be helping the extermination of the servants of the Blood Immortal, in the town of Connorshire, up north of the country.
A pathetic, wannabe knight like him could only barely earn enough pennies to sustain himself, let alone his two children.
His sister, Ariadne, grew up well at least, but this young man, Silver, rarely spoke to others. He had always been stuck inside his fantasy land, the world of books. He was abnormal, and always ended up being beaten by his father because of that, bruised and bleeding.
Silver gripped the desk at which he sat. "…I wish I was one of them." He said, a worthless dream when you considered how many people wanted to become strong.
All humans desired to either become Roundtable Knights or Roundtable Maidens. The former were the peak of the knights, who personally served an individual of the Great Monarchs and the latter were the honoured female attendants who guided them, showing them the will of the Gods. They were marked by a runic symbol, each symbol unique to show who exactly they served.
Some demi-gods had thousands, or tens of thousands of Roundtable members, while some others had even less than thirty. Yet, they were still positions highly valued by those who had no chance of being such members.
"…" Suddenly, Silver rose from his desk and put away the book he had got from the library. From his desk's drawers, he pulled out a weather piece of paper, and both a paintbrush and an ink bottle.
To soothe his worries, the thing he liked to do the most was paint. Ink stained the sheet of paper, as he dipped the paintbrush again and again. He eventually created a field of flowers, with imposing mountains as a backdrop, calming the sea of thoughts in his mind.
It was only then that he gazed upwards and towards the window, through the small crack between the curtains. He pulled them apart, seeing a faint reflection of himself, with a frail body, unkempt, red hair, and glinting, blue eyes that were serene and undisturbed. A unique-looking malnourished teen would be one way to describe his appearance.
And then, beyond his reflection, were the stars and the moon, which gazed upon everything across the lands. Yet, at this time, at this very moment, he had a feeling that they were staring at him, and only him.
"…Divine Sovereigns of the Heavens, heed my words…" Silver paused, his eyes illuminating with troubled uncertainty, "Please, if you cannot let me become one of them, then let me at least become a painter of the night sky."
He raised his hands in a praying motion towards the moon and closed his eyes, desperate for the Gods to hear him. They, who had the power to unwind the world back into loose threads, could certainly grant him his wish.
"…So, please…"
For a moment, everything became quiet and peaceful. As if it was the dawn of a new day. But then, he opened his eyes and saw the stars glistening and pulsing unlike they ever did before. The Gods…
The Gods are listening to you.
Silver's mouth lay agape before he spoke again. "Please, Gods, let me and my sister escape this life. Let us be renewed again, a new birth, in your embrace."
After he spoke, the silence was deafening. It seemed the Gods were no longer listening. Silver smiled, as he knew that they were not those who liked to listen easily. They wielded all knowledge, all power, and all presence, and only interfered with events that would alter the fate of the world.
"Ha. How would a quiet kid like me alter the world itself?" Silver grinned, just before grimacing. "I should only be happy with this…"
But then, a flash of light burst forth, splitting the invisible world into two. The stars embraced him in their light and placed a unique destiny in his hands, as well as a foreign power that came from the heart of an almighty beast. He had received the Sign of the Gods, in the form of a shining star.
Be happy with this, you young child, whom we shall now place our burdens on. And, believe in yourself. You can change the world.