In the seam between all worlds, the dark remembered something had been removed.
It knew loss.
They came, one after another, as if the void had knocked and old neighbors opened their doors.
Nyx stepped first, night drifting from her shoulders like silk.
Erebus gathered beside her, a cliff of shadow.
Ananke unwound from a ring that wasn't there, a serpent-woman with a thread around her wrist that tugged against nothing.
Hemera slid in as the gentlest morning. Her light was not bright; it was permission.
Pontus rose halfway, a black sea.
Gaia swelled from a low green hill that grew from air itself. Roots hung where there was no ground to reach.
Tiamat leaned through a hot rim, sea and teeth and mother in one slow breath.
Apsu followed, younger water with a long memory of being first.
Nun lifted like a broad tide the world had forgotten to name.
Ymir scratched frost from his beard and made a valley by standing still.
Pangu rested his axe on the line between nothing and more.
