Ashur-ll'Zhara: The Descent Into Existence
In the heart of the Nexus Realm, surrounded by luminous constellations of unborn timelines and the silver-threaded veins of all possible destinies, Ashur-ll'Zhara stood before his parents — Kronos, the Primordial of Time, and Celestiel, the Primordial of Life and Death.
They had watched him grow in wisdom far beyond what they expected — but something remained unfinished.
"You understand fate in theory," Kronos spoke, his voice a rhythmic ticking echoing through causality itself, "but to wield it fully, you must *walk* within it."
"To shape destiny," Celestiel added softly, "you must suffer it… feel the choices of mortals, gods, and monsters alike. You must step *into* the stories."
Ashur-ll'Zhara didn't protest. He already knew.
Though he bore knowledge ancient and power immense, this new self — this rebirth — needed to *live* within existence again. Fate was not written from above. It was forged through living, struggling, deciding.
Before his descent, Ashur spent one final cycle with his parents.
He sat with Celestiel in gardens where flowers bloomed and withered in the same breath. She cradled his hand, her touch cool and warm at once, and whispered, "You will feel pain . Love . betrayal . But you will *understand*."
He walked through the spiral citadels of Kronos, past halls of endless clocks ticking at different speeds. His father handed him a small golden thread — a strand of time unraveled from the weave. "This will guide you when you forget who you are."
Ashur bowed to them both, for he loved them — not just as their child, but as one who had once held the whole of creation in his hands and now chose to be guided.
And so…
*He stepped forward.*
With a breath, he exited the Nexus. Through the Veil of Causality. Past the Cradle of Birth and the Silence of Endings.
*Ashur-ll'Zhara descended into Existence.*
His wings of fate folded into mortal space. His divine essence compressed into a form that reality could perceive. Yet, his presence still sent ripples across the layers of gods and mortals alike.
He would walk again.
Among gods who didn't remember him. Among stars that once knew his name. Among destinies yet to be written.
And as he did, the threads of fate stirred. For the weaver had entered the loom.
And Existence… was about to change.