Listen ye and listen very well, for this is a tale from before thought, before stone learned the patience of mountains, before the very sky bore the height and majesty it has.
Before there was anything that is and was, there was Him. The One who would later be called the Greater Will.
And in the vast quiet where even concepts had not yet stirred, He spoke a single word.
"Be."
Time space and matter intertwined, coaleced and became a single construct, reality or Ufiterge. .
All things began at once, not as a struggle, but as a cocophonic rhythm of cosmic explosions.
Then the Greater Will breathed into the newborn expanse, and that breath did not fade. It endured, gathered, and became life.
Thus were brought forth the seven Ah-theh.
They opened their sight and beheld His glory, and joy took them. The Greater Will looked upon them and found that His work pleased Him.
So He taught them.
He spoke of the truths that bind existence, of currents unseen and laws unbroken. Yet the more they learned, the less they understood, and wonder became their constant companion.
One among them once asked, in a soft voice full of reverence,
"Great One… will we ever reach the end of your mysteries?"
And He answered,
"If you did, you would die."
So the Ah-theh listened, and they grew in knowledge and understanding Utiferge.
When the hour came to shape a dwelling for life, the Greater Will gathered stardust in His palm and cast it outward.
Dust became land breath became sky, and whispers became the four winds. Then, without hesitation, He reached up and plucked out His own eye.
The Ah-theh trembled, yet no wound marred Him. He set the eye at the centre of all things, and it burned with tireless radiance.
"Let this light serve as a lantern for the world," He said.
Thus was marked the first day after eternity.
After a ame the Bestowal.
He spoke the birds into the open sky and called forth beasts of every shape. To each He granted a name, and in receiving it, each creature understood its place.
The naming stretched across 100 cycles, for the world was generous, and life was in abundance.
On the end of the 100th cycle he summoned the rain. It fell upon the waiting world, and the ground drank deeply. Green life surged forth, covering the land in quiet triumph.
When the Greater Will beheld it, He rejoiced, and He sang.
It was no small song, but one that rolled through reality and brushed against the edges of the void. The fabric of existence quivered in delight, and from that trembling the stars were born, glittering as if laughter was made visible.
Then He called the seven Ah-theh to His side.
"Bear witness," He told them, "for you shall now see the greatest thing in all of Ufiterge "
From His head, He plucked a single strand of His black shimmering hair and cast it upon the world.
Where it touched, the earth stirred.
Countless beings rose, radiant and varied, their presence echoing faintly of the seven themselves.
"Vu'kaq," He named them. "Yet they shall also be called man."
He placed the blessing of the stars within them, and in time, they would name themselves gelar-vihref, the star children.
"Watch over them," the Greater Will instructed the Ah-theh, "for they will walk far, and choice will follow wherever they tread."
His work complete, He withdrew to His dwelling, a place unknown even to those nearest Him. Some say it lies beyond Ufiterge, Others claim it rests beneath it, the hidden foundation from which life continues to flow.
Man prospered.
Gifted with strength and keen spirit, they contended even with the colossal creatures scattered across the young world.
Among them rose one above all others.
His name was Bifh, which meant king, for none could rival his might, and the people themselves lifted him to rule.
Yet power is a flavour that ensares the sense and deepens hunger. Pride took root in Bifh, and from his pride came desire. He began to look upon the gifts of the Ah-theh not with gratitude, but with longing.
"What is given can be taken," he declared before his followers. "And what can be taken can be ours, for the stars themselves are our birthright."
Thus the first kingdom of man after 200 years being guided, turned its hand against its very guides.
Mighty were those men of yore. Their lives stretched long, and the aether of the world answered readily to their touch. Where they lacked the raw force of the Ah-theh, they answered with invention, with daring, and with the countless numbers among their ranks.
But Bifh walked further into shadow. He bent his will toward the soul itself, probing what was never meant for mortal grasp. His own soul swelled beyond its natural bounds, brilliant yet stained.
So began the Great War of the First Aeon.
It endured for centuries. Children were born into it, lived within it, and died knowing nothing or anything else of how it started. With every passing cycle, new Vu'kaq rose to take the place of the fallen.
And Lēra, also called the world, suffered. Her forests split, her waters recoiled, and her voice became a long and aching cry.
That cry reached the Greater Will.
He descended.
No trumpet announced His descent, yet all motion ceased the instant. He arrived. Blade halted before striking. Breath paused within the chest.
His voice covered the world.
"No longer shall the dwelling of spirits be with man. Man is greedy, man covets what is not his."
With a single gesture, He lifted the realm of the Ah-theh away from the physical world, setting it above the reach of mortal hands.
Again He spoke.
"No longer shall the power of aether abide with man, for man corrupts what was never his to command."
His presence grew heavy, pressing even the mountains low.
"No longer shall man live beyond three hundred cycles. Let him live, and then let him die. This is the mercy I grant, lest corruption consume him entirely."
Then His gaze fell upon the king.
"And you, the one called Bifh…"
Even the wind seemed to listen.
"Cursed be the day you were formed. Cursed be the name you were given. Your seed shall know the scorn of all living things. You shall never again behold the sunrise. Darkness is what you brought into this world, and darkness shall be your only companion."
Blue and silver radiance engulfed the fallen king and bore him upward. The light hardened, folding into a vast silvery mass that climbed until it stood before the sun itself.
For the first time, shadow claimed the world.
A cold unknown to creation swept across Lēra.
From that cold brilliance, new beings condensed, tall figures crowned with a single horn, their hair white as frost, their eyes grey as distant storms.
"Let this be remembered," said the Greater Will, "as the Day of Bifh's Sign."
And then He was gone. The strange new race vanishing with Him, and the world that had known only day welcomed its first night beneath the great eclipse.
Bifh, once king of the Vu'kaq, became but a distant light, destined to shine only in darkness, forever watching a world that no longer belonged to him.
Without their unity, mankind fractured.
No longer a single vast kingdom of triumph and ambition, they scattered into five peoples, each guided by one who had served as Bifh's general.
So, thus ended the Aeon of Myth after twelve hundred brief cycles.
Thus began the Aeon of Silence when men would walk without the nearness of gods, and the weight of their choices would shape the ages to come. The age of Strife as others would call it.