"Once upon a time."
What is this voice?
"Everything was dark."
Are these thoughts his?
"But not empty."
It sounds familiar.
That's right, I remember now. It was the tale my mother once read to me.
What a soothing voice she had.
How I would love to hear it again…
"Once upon a time, everything was dark. Matter had not yet taken shape, and there was no such thing as life. But this darkness was not empty, for mana saturated the void. From this primordial wellspring arose the entities of Good and Evil. Their clashes brought endless destruction and rebirth, and through that eternal collision, the three worlds were forged. At last, the fighting ceased. The Genesis of Good took their seat within the Heavenly Sphere; the Root of Evil retreated into the Demon Realm. The Primordial Spirits—the later offspring of mana—settled Geenna, the land in-between."
Arthur sprang upright, his small frame trembling with kinetic energy. "Ooh! Ooh! That's where we live, right?"
"Is it?" Cedric asked, tilting his head.
The twin brothers fixed their gaze upon their mother, wide eyes demanding confirmation.
"Yes, exactly," she murmured, lingering on the raw wonder blazing across their faces.
The boys melted under the warmth of her smile, tumbling forward to burrow into the folds of her skirt.
Arthur tipped his head back, breathless. "We're ready. Keep going!"
"Now, now. What is the proper way to ask?"
"...Please?" Cedric whispered, his voice so faint he could have swallowed the syllable whole had anyone blinked.
"Good boy," she said, biting back a chuckle.
Arthur scowled with faint resentment as their mother stroked Cedric's hair before reopening the heavy binding.
"Those who retained their sentience fortified their bastions against the next catastrophe. But the clash never came. Peace stretched over a year, a decade, a century; Good and Evil never stirred again. In their absence, life bloomed from the Primordials, heralding the Dawn of Gods. The mightiest among them, born of pure concept yet bound to flesh and stone, were crowned Gods. The Celestial God ruled the Celestials in the Heavenly Sphere, while the Demon God held dominion over the Demon Realm. In Geenna, the Spirit God governed the ancient forests, and the Dragon God reigned over the peaks."
Sleepy…
…
No! Stay awake. Earn the head pats.
"—and our ancestor, the Human God, governed mortals and demihumans alike. Yet peace was brittle. The Demon God ignited war against the Celestial God, turning Geenna into an ash-choked slaughterhouse. Mountains burned. Cities crumbled to dust. Neither side gained victory; the gods suffered catastrophic wounds and vanished into the veil of death. The mortal races of Geenna barely crawled from the rubble—saved only by the Human God, who gifted us magic through his ultimate sacrifice, bringing an end to the Era of Gods."
"Are we not the rulers of Geenna anymore?" Cedric asked, brow furrowed in genuine curiosity.
"No, sweet boy. The monsters drove us from our lands. But you need not worry—Mommy will never let the beasts touch you."
She smoothed the parchment flat.
"That is why we remember the Human God's sacrifice every dawn, thanking him for granting Mommy the strength to keep you safe."
She lowered the heavy cover. "The end."
The hush broke instantly.
Arthur thrust his fists toward the rafters. "Will I get to use magic like Mommy and Daddy?"
"And me?" Cedric piped up, straining to match his brother's volume.
Before she could answer, two calloused palms clamped over the crowns of their heads.
"Wielding magic isn't the measure of a man," their father rumbled, stepping from the threshold. "Health and discipline come first."
Their mother reached forward, cupping a cheek on each boy. "Your father is right. We will love you and stand proud of you no matter what path you take, so long as you give it your very best."
Arthur wriggled free of his father's grip. "No! I'm going to become the strongest mage alive and slaughter every single monster!" He tore across the floorboards, shouting fabricated incantations.
"Me too!" Cedric cried, tumbling after him.
The warmth drained from her face the second the doorway cleared. "What are we going to do? We hid it for as long as we could, yet they still sniffed it out. If they fail to awaken, it will shatter them."
"We are both active mages," he answered quietly. "The bloodline carries weight."
Her jaw clenched, tight and pale. "And if they break like Taren? Cedric especially."
A shadow crossed his features. He stared at her, seeing his own dread laid bare—the bitter ghost of an old lesson proving how easily a child fractures beneath the weight of an impossible dream.
A crash rattled the timber walls—the unmistakable groan of overturned oak.
A heartbeat later, two tousled heads peeked past the jamb.
"He did it!" they yelled in unison, index fingers thrusting accusingly at each other before both bolted to conceal the wreckage.
She exhaled—a sound suspended between laughter and mourning. "Then… we can only pray."
"To whom?" He offered a dry, brittle scoff. "The dead god you just commanded them to revere?"
He braced for the inevitable rebuke, but none came.
She leaned in, burying her chin against the crook of his neck. "I don't care who answers. If it spares them from becoming… empty… I'd devote the rest of my life to the Celestial God himself."
He raised his chin, his gaze boring into the ceiling beams as if trying to pierce the timber and stone to reach the Heavenly Sphere.
The cynicism slowly bled out of him, leaving cold, unadorned terror in its wake.
"Then let us hope the heavens are listening." He shut his eyes, measuring the stillness of the home. "Five years old already. Time is slipping through our fingers."