The Dawning
Nihility; in the beginning there was nothing. It is known, however, that nothing always seeks to become something; a void always yearns to be filled. It was from this yearning—this desire to come into existence—that the-two-who-became-one would emerge and unintentionally sow the seeds that would become all that we know.
The two were known as Aion and Theus, and each came into being a vast distance from each other. The distance was so great that not even they-the first and most powerful of the numina-could sense the presence of one another. Several ages would come to pass, and the two would continue to slumber. Their rest would not be eternal, however, and their dreams would bring two pantheons of numina into being.
Aion was the first to restlessly dream of malice, ingenuity, and temporality. These dreams would give form to the numina we now recognize by the modern names of Maal, Thalassa, and Nave; and they collectively are often referred to as the Anarchiam. But the dreams of Aion are often considered nightmares; as these numina would come to create and ruthlessly use to their entertainment a great many mortal creations, using the constantly shifting body of Nave as their blood-and-fire-scorched arena.
While Aion dreamt of mortality and possibility, Theus did dream of order, power, and perpetuity. These dreams would manifest themselves as Skadi, Pontos, and Erebus; and in all surviving texts are referred to as the Ordinatio. The children of Theus would create a great many lesser numina in their image, who sought to impose order on the otherwise empty universe and expand the power of their creators.
The Age of Slumber had begun; for three centuries would the temporal and hedonistic “empires” of Maal, Thalassa, and Nave rise and fall. Their mortal followers did fight against each other for the favor of their would-be gods, with the means employed by these empires advancing further and further; becoming more and more destructive in nature to suit their purposes.
As the dreamers continued their slumber, it seemed as though the suffering inflicted upon these mortals by both the gods and their own kind would never end. It was such, however, that perpetuity and order were central to the very nature of the Ordinatio; the children of Theus. The order spread by lesser numina of their own creation would eventually come into contact with the mortal empires, and the resulting conflict would make the dreamers stir in their sleep.
It is said that the Ordinatio, never knowing conflict or resistance in their expansion prior to encountering Nave, were completely unprepared for the sheer destructive potential of the Anarchaim. As lesser numina of the Ordinatio threw themselves against the weapons of the Anarchiam’s mortal empires, they learned two things: Nave herself had cursed any who walked upon her body with mortality, and through this curse, the concept of fear.
As the bodies of the numina fractured and shattered underneath the onslaught, their crackling screams did wake the dreamers from their seemingly eternal slumber. The screams of the lesser numina were not even whispers compared to the angered cries of Aion and Theus, each bellowing in anger at the twisted manifestations of their dreams.
While the wars would wage on for ages, their collective end would take but moments. Aion and Theus did unknowingly charge ever closer toward one another at incomprehensible speeds, absorbing the very essence of the wayward numina and leaving behind their corporeal forms. The Anarchiam would forever be held in place—their forms twisted and their energy expelled until they would be extinguished forever—while the Ordinatio suffered a different fate and saw their very essence immediately returned to Theus as their corpses were left in an eternal stasis.
As they felt the influence and power their gods granted to them wane and saw the heavens above illuminated by scorching lights painted in a myriad of colors, both the lesser numina and mortals alike did lament. Many of the lesser numina forgot alliances and banded together, expending their remaining energy and attempting to escape and avoid the same fate as their gods.
The mortals, however, had nowhere to run. Their gods gone and their hopes shattered, many resigned themselves to whatever fate would await them, while others ended their own lives in a desperate attempt at escaping a seemingly hopeless future. What awaited those who remained, however, was an opportunity at salvation.
In their zealous rage, neither Aion nor Theus did recognize one another for what they actually were. Each saw the other as yet another—albeit more powerful—numen to be judged, and so as the last of their kind remaining the two did collide. The resulting conflagration tore reality asunder, forming not only our plane of existence but also many others. When all had settled and reality as we know it came to be, at the location of the conflagrance was left proof of these events: Sunna. The elders had become one and in turn transcended the knowable realms. Pandeus was born. Soon, all would come to know, and all would be judged.
Waking for the first time, Pandeus did look upon the remaining life—the few unbound lesser numina and mortals alike—across the shattered dimensions with mixed pity and empathy; for they were his children, wayward or no. Rather than ending their existence, our ancestors were left on the still-turbulent corpse of Nave, where the faithful could be watched over and guided.
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