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Before light.
Before stars.
Before even time could whisper its name… there was stillness.
Not peace. Not chaos.
Just stillness.
Then—something stirred.
A breath. A ripple in the dark. A thought that hadn't been thought yet.
From that breath, the universe stretched open. Slowly. Not with thunder or violence—but like a muscle waking for the first time. And with it came the first of all beings.
The Progenitors.
Born from raw essence. Not created. Not summoned. Just… present.
They weren't shaped by gods.
They came before gods.
The first to open his eyes was Adam.
He stood on a nothing-field—no ground, no sky. Just the quiet hum of a world that hadn't yet formed. He looked around with human eyes, but something behind them wasn't human. He breathed once—and the air around him learned how to exist.
He didn't speak.
Not yet.
Then came another.
A pulse of gold and white light tore through the black.
Michael. The Celestial.
