Imagine an empty space—dark and silent. You see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. An absolute calm that leaves you deeply uneasy. At first you think you're in a closed room, but when you reach out, no barrier stops your hand. This cold aspect is merely a representation of the Void.
In the beginning, nothing existed but it. Then, at a moment still undefined, a pale glimmer appeared within its darkness. That fortuitous anomaly gave birth to Chaos, a primitive entity later nicknamed the Primordial God.
Wandering forever within this shadowy prison, it gradually awakened its consciousness to break the hold it had over him. And with overflowing creativity, he finally shattered his intangible chains. The materialization of the Universe was only a consequence of that strange liberation. Yet Chaos did not stop there. Wanting to go further—driven by the simple will to fulfill each of his designs—he created worlds and set six elements to govern them.
From Earth, he spread plains and mountains. From Water, he filled rivers and oceans. From Wind, he breathed atmospheres into being. From Fire, he brought warmth. From Light, he animated life. And from Darkness, he imposed death.
That heavy task accomplished, the dull and immutable blackness around him transformed into shifting colors, consigning him to the role of curious spectator.
Yet what caught his attention—more than all the rest—were those primitive individuals with eccentric appearances. They evolved peacefully beneath his nonexistent gaze, so much so that it forced him to judge his own appearance: spherical, simple, and dull. Suddenly retreating into a timeless lethargy, he meditated on it in confusion.
When he awoke, the world beneath him had changed—and so had he. Chaos had legs, arms, wings, horns, and countless forms he had glimpsed before fading away. He felt strange beats pulsing everywhere within this new body. He knew his primal desire had been fulfilled. That those beings had offered him a blessing he could never grant himself. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks, moistening an organic coating he was discovering at the same time as everything else. His mouth curved into a sign of joy—a smile. But the feeling faded when he noticed that only he had been granted that astonishing transformation. His benefactors, meanwhile, continued to be born and die without ever reaching that ideal morphology.
In bitterness, Chaos exploded in anger and absorbed them all, leaving them no chance to continue like that. He wanted to keep them close, to stop watching them suffer. But by amassing them in that way, he realized nothing would change. Nothing would remedy the helplessness of their own nature.
At last he resigned himself and plunged his fingers into his entrails to free them from that tyrannical grip. Despite the impulsive gesture—filled with despair—a miracle occurred. The organisms that littered the ground took on diverse shapes, transforming in turn into sublime beings. Angels, Demons, Humans, Elves, and a multitude of other creatures were born beneath his bleak eyes.
Delighted by that unsuspected grace, Chaos repeated the pattern countless times to populate each world. Yet he never remained long beside his children. He understood that his nature was unique, and could not further mingle with that of others. So he withdrew to the heart of the Void to erect a domain there. After all, he had never thought to found a home of his own. But it did not feel sufficient. Even then, a hollow remained within him—the addictive sensation of not being alone anymore, a sensation he had lost despite his efforts.
To remedy it—and as though reaching a final apex—he sacrificed parts of himself to give birth to beings superior to all the rest: the gods. Beyond filling that strange loneliness, Chaos wished to leave an indelible imprint of his existence—something that would live eternally through the ages. His hopes rested on the genesis of his work, and on its future. He knew his new children would, in some way, follow the line traced by his will. At least, he took the greatest care to ensure it with the time he spent at their side.
Without warning or regret, Chaos evaporated from the surface of the Void. His dearest wish was partly granted: the gods continued to exist, untouched by his absence. But the possibilities at their disposal were not enough, and some of them began to kill one another. No one knew why those hostilities arose. The only justification that could be drawn from this sudden violence was a chronic need to distinguish themselves from one another.
After many internal wars—and weary of fighting, for they were immortal—they soon returned to their monotonous idleness. Several even came to doubt their own existence:
Why were we born? For what purpose? Why do we feel this profound loneliness?
So many unanswered questions, sowing turmoil in their minds.
The other gods, however, did not seem afflicted by such strange apprehensions. On the contrary, they became aware of countless creatures presenting themselves beneath their omniscient gaze.
Perplexed by each discovery, they remained within their domains to observe more closely. That temporary distance expressed an intention not to influence their evolution.
Little by little, the excitement of blending in among those intriguing beings reached its peak. And at that crucial moment, they finally decided to populate the worlds—to live among them.