The Spark Eternal — Verse I

The Spark Eternal Scripture of Light, Book of Origins — Verse I

Before time. Before breath. Before the worlds had name or motion, there was Balance. Unseen, unheard, and yet it was all that was and was not. Neither shadow nor light, presence nor void. Stillness, endless and pure.

In that stillness, the First Breath stirred. A note, unplayed, yet known. A hum rippling through the Nothing. From it were born the Caeli-Arcanum — twelve radiant wills of arcane design.

They were the Arcani, and each was flame divine.

To each was a task given: Do not rule, but shape Do not command, but tend Do not dominate, but create

One flame, one world. The Balance tolerates no excess, nor lack.

So the Arcani worked. Each lit their world and molded its shape; Some thrived, golden and blooming. Others faded, and the flames dimmed.

But then came flame like none before.

Among the stars, a flicker. A shimmer at the edge of the Eternal And all Divine turned to see A world coiled in the deep. A world reborn unborn yet certain

To this world, the Balance sparked not one flame. It sparked two.

The Arcani stood in awe and horror. Never had this occurred. Never had two flames been woven for one candle.

The Prima Arcana, Einalura, was first to speak. She, who governs the suns and threads the hours. The First Flame, Who Turns the Sky

“This is no error,” she declared. ”This is the will of the Balance, deeper than even our comprehension.”

The Divine trembled, for where one had always sufficed, now stood two. Excess; and lack.

Thus were the Twin Arcani of Sahana

Ethestes, Arcanum of Prosperity. Peace. Order. Justice. Health. Unity.

Hladamor, Arcanum of Fear. Death. Disease. Chaos. Disorder. Famine.

The Arcanum beheld Ethestes, And relief drew from them in chorused sighs. His presence was radiant. He was dignity and serenity.

But Hladamor… was quiet. He said little, and where he stood, the light bent away. He was not cruel, he was not Evil. He was unwelcome. In the Divine realm, joy is a river. Shadow finds no drink in its stream.

So the Arcani turned from him. All but one.

Ethestes, his twin and brother, took the Hand of Hladamor ”We are not made to be the same. We are made to be together.” And so the two descended, twin flames bound and bright, to the world awaiting a world called Sahana, cold and veiled; unformed, untouched. Awaiting its First Breath.