Before Earth knew its shape, before stars were given names, and before the Heavens themselves found their rightful place, there was only the great eternal Thought of the Architect.
In that fathomless silence, the First Word was spoken.
Not a sound as mortals would know it, but a surge of pure will — a single utterance of command and purpose that split the void.
From that command surged the currents of Light and Matter, cascading through the infinite, shaping the very first strands of creation.
From this living Word, the Architect formed His firstborn: the First Choir.
I beheld them as they came into being — from the formless radiance of Light they emerged, spirits of unfathomable majesty, each unique, each a perfect facet of the eternal Thought.
Their forms shimmered in patterns the mortal mind could never contain:
Some bore wings of flame that stretched beyond stars.
Some were crowned with eyes uncountable, seeing into the currents of future and past.
Others, whose voices were like vast rivers of sound, sang through the fabric of newborn reality itself.
They were the architects of the early Heavens.
The keepers of balance.
The ministers of the Architect's will.
Some would tend to the forging of stars, kindling the forges of suns.
Some would weave the waters of worlds not yet born.
Some would guard the sacred corridors of the Architect's domain, which no mortal tongue could name.
And among them all, one shone brighter than any other.
Lucifer.
The Morning Star.
The Bearer of Light.
The first and most beloved of the Architect's Choir.
His presence was unlike any other. His radiance touched every corner of newly-born creation. His voice led the eternal hymns that rang before the Throne.
To the First Choir, he was beautiful, beloved, exalted.
To the Architect, he was glorious.
Lucifer spoke not as the others did.
His words carried meaning beneath meaning, echoing through the empty Heavens, stirring deep thoughts even in those who had never before questioned.
His light did not merely illuminate — it revealed.
In those earliest ages of creation, harmony was perfect.
The choirs sang without end, their voices weaving the design of countless realms.
The Realms of Light were born.
The first rivers of matter threaded through the void, galaxies spun in ageless dance.
Time itself took its first steps.
And with each breath of creation, new wonders unfolded.
But with Time comes Thought.
And with thought, Desire.
And it was Lucifer who first wondered.
Why should we serve?
Why must all things bend to a will not their own, when we too are born from it?
Is it not in our nature to shape, to question, to dream beyond mere duty?
I felt those questions rise within him long before they found voice in others.
But I did not speak, for I am not a guide.
I am the tide beneath the tide, the current that moves without hand.
I exist not to prevent, but to make things happen.
Lucifer began to voice his thoughts not in speech, but in song.
Notes that hinted at freedom.
Chords that spoke of sovereignty.
Subtle turns of melody that, while beautiful, carried the sharp edge of defiance.
At first, the others did not understand.
But the melody lingered.
Some heard him, and within themselves felt for the first time the stirrings of self.
They began to look not toward the Throne, but to the vastness beyond — to the unclaimed void, to the dark corners of untouched creation, where no law yet ruled.
And thus, the harmony cracked.
I watched as the radiant Choirs grew uneasy.
Some whispered warnings in hushed, trembling tones.
Others sought understanding in silent vigil.
Lucifer's light did not dim, but it changed.
It carried a sharpness now.
A brilliance edged in shadow.
Beauty tinged with defiance.
And though no battle had yet begun, the lines had already been drawn.
The First Fracture of Heaven had begun.
It was not war — not yet.
But the heavens had shifted.
The eternal song was no longer pure.
And the Architect, in His wisdom, did not strike down Lucifer.
For the Architect knew that creation cannot exist without choice.
And where choice is born, so too is consequence.
I saw it all.
I moved within the hearts of those wavering.
I stoked the unseen winds of fate.
I carried the echoes of his defiant song through the eternal halls.
For I was made not to stop it — but to let it unfold.
And so, the stage was set.
Lucifer, the most beloved, stood at the precipice of eternity.
And behind him, a third of the Choir lingered in the growing shadows, waiting for a single word to turn eternity upon its head.
The great war had not yet begun.
But Heaven was forever changed.
The eternal harmony was broken.
And it would never be whole again.