Ellas, once golden ether, now mortal, dragged himself across the dust-choked surface of the barren world he had collapsed upon. His breath came harsh, ragged. His hands bled. Human senses overwhelmed him with cold, hunger, exhaustion, and the strange, suffocating weight of a heart that beat too slowly for his former radiance.
But mortal weakness came with one thing the First had not taken:
A spark.
A sliver of his former light.A dying ember buried deep beneath skin and bone.A memory of the power he once commanded.
And he felt something hunting.
He lifted his eyes to the sky seeing nothing, but sensing the tremor in the air. Something vast approached. Many, in fact. Wings. Claws. Echoes of silver and shadow streaking through the void like blades.
"Who dares?" he muttered, but his voice cracked into human frailty.
He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, reaching inward.
There.
A spark.
Weak.Fading.But still his.
He whispered a word that tore at his mortal throat.
"Shift."
Light burst from his skin in a small, trembling flare. Space folded around him not cleanly, not seamlessly, but like a wound forced open by desperate hands. He clung to the spark with every shred of will left in his mortal frame.
Another world flickered into view a place he did not know, rich with untouched soil and deep forests. A world young enough to be nameless.
Eroden.
Ellas fell through the tear and disappeared.
The spark went dark in his chest.
The sky above Retos split open just moments later.
Angels descended first silver wings spanning the horizon, spears of light cutting through the atmosphere as they landed in perfect, silent formation. Their boots struck barren stone with divine resonance. Their leader lifted their visor, eyes glowing with the Elder's imprint.
"Target not present."
Demons followed seconds later erupting from cracks in the air, claws dripping shadowfire, smoke curling from their forms as they prowled the landscape. Their snarls echoed across the empty world.
"Nothing," one hissed, digging claws into the dust.
"Not even his scent," growled another.
One of the angels lowered its face to the ground, silver runes spiralling across its gaze. "He was here. But the trace ends abruptly."
The demons hissed in frustration. The angels murmured in confusion.
The Elder stepped forward.
Small.Glowing.Wings trembling with uncertainty and power.
It touched the planet's surface and felt nothing.
Not hatred.Not ambition.Not the wounded scream of Ellas's existence.
Only emptiness.
"He escaped," the Elder whispered, confused and ashamed. "I… I sent you too late."
Dream floated nearer, their hazy form shimmering with worry. "Not too late," they murmured. "Just unpredictable."
Destruction-and-Creation crackled with restless energy. "Let us burn the world until he crawls out!"
Death shook their head gently. "He is no longer here. And destruction without purpose breeds only regret."
Night stood behind them all, silent, watching the Elder.
The child gazed at Retos's barren surface dust, stone, ash, and nothing more. No life. No warmth. No future.
"Why would he come here?" Elder whispered. "There is nothing."
Night stepped forward, shadows bowing around her like a cloak of sovereignty.
"Because emptiness hides the desperate," she said calmly. "But emptiness does not hide truth."
Elder trembled. "What truth?"
Night studied the barren world. It held no life. No dreams. No death. Nothing but potential long abandoned.
"Truth," she said softly, "that this place could be more."
The Elder looked up at her eyes wide, shimmering. "More… because he fled from it?"
Night smiled gently, a crescent of darkness. "Sometimes the shadow he leaves behind is a place for light to grow."
The words rooted themselves in the Elder's heart.
Slowly, it lifted its hands.
A silver-blue glow gathered between its palms soft, trembling, hesitant. It stepped forward, the angels parting before it, the demons bowing despite themselves.
The Elder pressed its light into the ground.
Retos exhaled.
The dust shivered. The cracks widened. Light seeped into the soil like water into thirsty earth.
Grass unfurled in waves of glowing green. Flowers erupted in spirals of gold and violet. Rivers burst through the stone in glistening silver streams. Mountains rose, reshaped, softened by forests blooming along their sides.
The angels stood silent. The demons watched in awe. Night's children held their breath.
Elder kept going.
Its hands shook. Its wings glowed. Its voice whispered the simplest, purest command:
"Live."
The world obeyed.
Animals emerged soft, glowing creatures with silver eyes, grazing fearlessly. Birds burst into the air in shimmering flocks. Oceans teemed with life. Forests thickened and breathed. The sky brightened into eternal dawn.
Retos was no longer barren.
It was alive.
A world reborn.
But the Elder was not finished.
One more spark remained faint, but potent. It pressed its hand against the ground again, and this time the light shaped itself into forms upright and curious.
Mortals.
The first true mortals of Retos.
They rose gently from the shining soil skin warm with the planet's glow, eyes bright with innocence and wonder. They looked around, seeing life, sky, and colour for the first time.
They breathed.
They walked.
They lived.
And when they lifted their gaze to the heavens
They saw the Elder.
Their creator.
They knelt instinctively not from fear, but from awe.
Behind them, the angels lowered their weapons, moved by reverence. The demons bowed, compelled by a force older than shadow.
Night watched silently, her eyes soft with something close to pride.
Elder looked at the mortals it had made.
They looked back, trusting, hopeful.
It whispered, voice shaking:
"Grow."
And the world answered.
Retos now fertile, thriving, alive blossomed under their feet.
But across the stars
Ellas, hidden on Eroden, felt the shift. He felt the birth of life. He felt the empowerment of a being born from his own ruin.
And hatred awoke in him like a long-buried flame.