It began with a simple golden ripple, the sky a canvas of placid calm undisturbed by the turmoil building all around. A soft, tranquil tone accompanied this passage of unknowable force, preparing the world for a terrible catastrophe that yet lurked beyond the reaches of their perception. As pressure built and a faint echo sounded out from everywhere and nowhere, the sky swelled and then cracked, its tenuous fabric torn apart to the tune of a nauseating - yet strangely familiar - 'click' that rang throughout all of Aetolia in a sudden, revolting shudder of sound.

Then, like unto a stage curtain torn aside to reveal the first act of a grand drama, Creation gave way. Ripped to tatters by the expenditure of awesome might, the world bore witness to a sight unseen since the birth of Dia'ruis: the Celestine locked in a battle of cosmic import with His Counterpart, the Albedi Eschaton. Surrounded in fundamental detritus, the world groaned in the throes of Their emergence and the very heavens reeled in a bewildered spiral of abject mourning.

Scattering to make room within the empyreal arena, the aetherial vault displaced itself temporarily, clearing the stage for a monumental struggle unlike any other. In the din of Their fray, Their power scattered all across Aetolia, bathing even the wreckage of Yggdrasil in showers of Their ineffable mastery. Though the realm knew the sight of their Creator instantly, His emergence inspired no less awe: serene and peaceful at the heart of a chaotic maelstrom, the silver Maker commanded streams of lustrous potency to gather in His palm in preparation for an immense strike.

Forged from smoky nebulae and shimmering supernovae, the Cosmic Counterpart opposite of the Celestine presided as a being without emotion, without expression, without face or relatable appearance. In spite of this, the star-forged being's very demeanor carved Itself into the memories of all lucky enough to behold It in this moment, Its recollection writ in auroric fires. Transcending time, space, and all existence, this Divinity Incarnate served as the perfect foil to Varian's shining, silvered existence. Serenity suffused this enigmatic outline, bespeaking the utter ease and comfort It possessed within a world of Its own making.

Creation's cries ceased. Quietude reigned, enforcing a tomb-like stillness upon all of reality as they held a collective breath in preparation for what came next.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 1st of Arios, in the year 511 MA.