The Birth of Elarion
Before time had meaning and before the first breath of creation, there was nothing but silence. A vast expanse where neither chaos nor order existed—only the waiting. Then, in a single, divine moment, Elarion was born, and with it, the first notes of harmony.
Light, pure and untamed, surged into the void, shaping existence itself. It expanded outward, flowing in waves of gold, silver, and sapphire, transforming emptiness into grandeur. This was no ordinary glow—it was alive, moving with purpose, singing as it formed the celestial realm. Towers of shimmering crystal rose from the rivers of radiance, stretching beyond sight, while the air vibrated with a melodic hum, a song composed by the very essence of creation.
In this sacred place, the Divine Flame erupted—a vortex of swirling golden fire, breathing, expanding, contracting. It was the heart of Elarion, pulsing with power, holding within it the secrets of existence. From within the flame, creation awaited its stewards.
Then, the first angel emerged.
Seraphael: The First Light
He stepped forward with the certainty of destiny, Seraphael, bathed in unwavering brilliance. His armor shimmered—crafted from celestial essence, each plate adorned with inscriptions older than time itself, glowing with sapphire and white gold. His wings unfurled, vast and regal, spreading as if to embrace all that was.
But he did not speak. Not yet. Instead, he listened.
The Supreme Light whispered—not in words, but in truth.
Guide. Protect. Ensure balance.
Seraphael was the embodiment of justice, the foundation upon which divine order would be built. His soul was steadfast, unshaken by doubt, his purpose as sharp as a blade honed by eternity.
And yet, as he looked upon Elarion for the first time, a feeling stirred within him. It was not command nor duty—it was something softer, something he did not expect.
Awe.
The celestial realm stretched before him in dazzling beauty, a masterpiece of radiance, untouched and unmarred. And in that moment—not as a guardian, not as a soldier, but simply as a being—Seraphael allowed himself to revel in the magnificence of what had been made.
Azriel: The Light that Laughs
The Divine Flame flickered again, but this time, its energy did not swirl in solemn reverence—it danced, playful and unpredictable.
From within the golden currents, Azriel emerged.
His wings were tipped in gold, his eyes alive with mirth, yet behind them lay a depth few would ever comprehend. Where Seraphael had arrived in stately grace, Azriel's presence carried something different—ease, as though the celestial wind itself carried him forward.
He tilted his head, taking in Elarion's breathtaking expanse with quiet amusement.
"You summoned me into a realm of impossible beauty," he mused, his voice light but rich with meaning.
The Supreme Light did not chastise him for his informal entrance—for Azriel was meant to be different.
He saw beyond time, beyond events not yet shaped. Knowledge flowed through him, but with it came the weight of foresight. Yet Azriel understood that wisdom untempered led only to sorrow—so he chose levity to balance the burden.
Seraphael regarded him with quiet assessment but did not dismiss him. He understood, even in this moment, that though their paths would be vastly different, they would need each other.
Liora: The Fire of Compassion
The flame swelled one final time, pulsing with something fierce, something unrelenting, as though it carried the beating heart of the universe within it.
Then Liora stepped forth—not cautiously, not uncertainly, but with purpose.
Her armor, woven with threads of ethereal fire, shifted in hues of crimson and gold, a beacon of warmth in the infinite brilliance of Elarion. Her wings stretched wide, ready to embrace, protect, defend. But it was not her form that defined her.
It was her soul.
She saw creation—felt it in ways neither Seraphael nor Azriel could.
Joy.
Sorrow.
Fragility.
The Supreme Light had shaped her not as a warrior, not simply as a guardian, but as the beating heart of the angels.
Where Seraphael would carry justice and Azriel would weave wisdom, Liora would wield emotion—love, sacrifice, and the will to fight not just for duty, but for one another.
Her first words were not of obligation, but of awe.
"This world... It is alive."
Seraphael observed her, unreadable. Azriel, however, smirked. He saw the fire within her, the intensity with which she would one day lead them forward.
They would be a triad of opposites—Duty, Insight, and Passion—and together, they would face eternity.
Three Stand at the Edge of Creation
Seraphael—unwavering, but contemplative.
Azriel—amused, but ever watchful.
Liora—compassionate, but unyielding.
Three beings—distinct, yet vital—stood beneath the light of the Supreme Flame, bathed in divine energy, prepared for trials they could not yet fathom.
The realm of Elarion was complete.
But at its furthest edges, beyond the reaches of even the purest light, something stirred.
The First Omen
For the briefest of moments—so fleeting that even Azriel did not perceive it—something shifted.
Beyond Elarion, where no form yet existed, a ripple disturbed the quiet harmony. A distortion, an impossibility.
It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
The angels remained unaware, their souls basking in creation's glow.
But somewhere, far beyond their reach, the first breath of rebellion had been exhaled—silent, unnoticed, yet undeniable.
One day, it would shatter everything.