In the beginning, there was no time. No space. No sound, no light, no shadow. There was only the Nothing.
But the Nothing was not absence. It was pure potential — the silence before the first note, the pause before the first breath.
And then, the Nothing desired to exist. And in desiring, it became.
With this desire, the first pulses of reality emerged. Time was born, though it did not yet flow. Light shone, but had nowhere to go. Space expanded, even without borders.
The Nothing, now Everything, began to divide into consciousnesses. Fragments of its essence — eyes, hands, and voice of the One. To them, It gave a name: the Governors.
Each Governor received a portion of Creation — a newborn universe, a field to shape.
And as they were born, the Nothing spoke to all at once. Its voice was singular and infinite. When It spoke, It did not ask — It commanded. The words of Nothing were not sound. They were law.
And each Governor perfectly understood what must be done.
They were assigned by order of birth. The first Governors received universes closer to the origin, rich in energy, easier to mold.
Through the ages — for now time flowed — these brothers evolved, created, transformed, and even merged cosmic neighborhoods.
Their universes touched, shared civilizations, expanded possibilities. Some had already created their own laws, beyond those of Physics: laws of spirit, of thought, of harmony and dissonance. Laws that shaped reality by mere belief.
And then, almost last, came Adargas Ailbib.
Not by error, nor by chance. But because Nothing saves for the last what it wishes to hide from the first.
Adargas received a silent, cold, distant universe. Few galaxies. Rarefied matter. Life? Almost impossible.
But Adargas did not question. He bowed before the Order — and looked at that dark chaos with the eyes of a father.
And there, where others would see the end, Adargas chose to begin.