Before all things — there was the Void.
No light. No shadow. No thought.
Only silence, endless and still, like the breath of a god who had not yet realized he existed.
And within this silence — two emerged.
Not enemies. Not allies.
Two Primordial Forces. Equal. Eternal.
Their forms knew no time, no shape.
They simply… were.
Like the heartbeat of a universe not yet born.
One — radiant. So bright that even the Void flinched, as though it could feel pain.
The other — darkness itself, deeper than the idea of an end.
A shadow that devoured even the memory of light.
They did not speak.
They clashed.
Without cause. Without beginning. Without hate.
Only movement. Only power searching for meaning in the infinite.
Every strike — not sound, but rupture.
A pulse that tore the fabric of nonexistence.
When the Radiant swung her blade, the air shimmered like newborn stars.
When Darkness answered — space collapsed into itself, and silence… screamed.
Strike after strike. Motion after motion.
Not a war. A rhythm.
An eternal breath of creation and erasure.
No one sought victory. No one could stop.
They were bound not by anger or love — but by equality. Endlessly mirrored. Perfectly opposed.
But slowly… the light began to dim.
Not from weakness. Not from defeat.
But from weariness.
From the understanding that even eternity
can become a prison… without purpose.
The Radiant's face, once serene, now held something deeper than pain.
A sorrow without words. A gaze that saw no enemy — only futility.
She raised her hand.
Not in defiance. Not in command.
Simply… upward.
To the same endless Void that had watched them from the beginning.
And Darkness… paused.
Turned gaze and looked.
And for the first time — saw not an opponent but a being.
Alone, tired luminous.
And in that moment — the Light made a choice.
She opened her chest.
With hands that once forged stars, she tore her essence wide and drew forth her heart — not of flesh, but of soul.
A crystal, pulsing with everything she was.
And she closed her fist.
The Void did not tremble.
It erupted.
Shards of the heart scattered like stardust.
And each one — became a world.
Her armor, cast into the winds of creation, became the first living beings.
Her breath — the first fire.
Her blood — the first magic.
And her sword… dissolved into thought, into spirit, into the gift of will.
Where more light fell — there bloomed wonder, beauty, and hope.
Where less — survival, hunger, strength.
But in every grain of reality — an ember of her choice remained.
Darkness stood motionless.
The form of its eternal rival in its arms, now empty.
But she… smiled.
Not defeated — fulfilled.
And for the first time, Darkness felt pain.
Not from battle.
But from loss.
From understanding… that someone had given everything not to win — but to create a chance.
It did not fall.
It did not vanish.
It understood.
And so — it lifted its sword.
Silently. Without rage.
And broke it across its knee.
Ten fragments fell like dying stars, and each became a Dragon.
Witnesses. Guardians. Silent watchers.
No throne. No law.
Only memory.
And each of them, without words, knew:
Protect them — never rule.
Watch them — never break.
You are their mirror.
They… are the truth.
If they fall — so does the meaning of her sacrifice.
Thus, the world began.
Not created — born.
Not from triumph — but from forgiveness.
And the Darkness remained.
Not as a king.
But as a keeper.
To see.
To remember.
To wait… and to wonder:
Was it worth it?