Purusha’s world had changed over her long and lonely life. From one fiery glowing blob of celestial refuse came a million different places, a million different pieces, a million more to come form those and a million more from those.
There was no end to the celestial beauty that spun in silent harmony.
But Purusha could not stand the lonely eons. Nothing but one after another. Always the same. Beautiful but silent, like tears flowing from a dead face.
Purusha had contemplated her choice for a long time. She wished to make more, but she let her rotting mind seethe and twists and churn and eat away at itself until all that was left was an idea. It was her dream, her only dream. The last one she’d ever have.
I was a dream of those to come, those she created.
They were few, but they were enough. They were created from power, from life, all at it’s purest. But also, they were created from insanity, possibly purer than anything else that had made them.
The star that held the others in balance, burning its life away with the fire that was it’s only life. To guard this, Purusha created Khaos, a woman with a will to match the fire and power to hold the other worlds in her grasp as her home did.
Beyond were two spheres, nothing but gas, the water burned away forever long ago. To these Purusha created a man, his long hair spilling down his back and ending in curls. He was Caduceus. He would be the envy of his cosmos.
Beyond that, a small blue planet, Purusha had held a special liking. For this tiny cosmic marble, she held great plans. She gave it life. She gave it the spark within her of living, but she gave it a chance to grow, to change. Never again would a mind rot away from static with such majesty as a living being.
To guard the planet, she created Moirae, the one she ordained to judge the universe.
Beyond, the red planet neighboring the blue, she created a woman with hair dark as the universe, skin the color of the soil loam for her life, dressed in colors the universe had never seen. She was Phoenix, and she would die like one.
The planet beyond, with the power to crush anything in its wake, to gather anything small and tiny to its side, Purusha gave a warrior, Jove. Barely clad and short-haired, this woman lived to crush, to own, but not to destroy. She would fight with passion in her heart, and only one with a passion to surpass hers would kill her.
Beyond that there were three small planets, free of the warrior, left in the darkness and cold.
To one the creator gave a dark king, long hair spilling yards from his body. In the dark and the gloom things began to shine. Not from his power, but from the spell-binding effect of his eyes when he smiled. A touch from him would warm death itself. A sigh could make it. He was Veritas, king of life, death, and love.
To the second was Varuna, with muscles like Atlas and a lust to use them. Only he himself thought he’d be any threat. What fear was there for brawn on a speck in the universe when magic could make the entire thing collapse?
The third was Amyone, a shining king. He held every color in the borealis in his long streaming hair. Like all rainbows, he would be gone, leaving only a dream, at soon another storm.
Far away, in the distance inconceivable even to these great rulers, lay a sparkling celestial cloud. This cloud, where event he greatest numbers became insignificant to its true domain, there were placed two shining rulers, beautiful in their raw and revealing beauty. The Oort cloud was given Parvati and Kali, the greatest, the magnificent, the infinitely powerful, the doomed.
To rule over all, to give structure to the chaos of new minds, was created Heng O, the one to rule as a goddess over all, the one to who would follow in the last ruler’s vanished footsteps, the one to create the war, the Gotterdamerung, but no the one to lead it, and hardly the one to end it.