By IMERPUS RELUR
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The small glowing being hovered beside Auren, her wings pulsing with calm. Though she was barely larger than a child, the presence she radiated was profound—like an emotion crystallized into form.
Auren stood slowly, his gaze stretching across the once-empty plain.
Now, it breathed.
The wind stirred. The air shimmered faintly. The sky had turned a pale gold, like a new dawn.
> "This place… it's changing," Auren murmured.
The little being nodded. "You are changing it. You shape this realm with your presence. Your will writes the code of this world."
He looked down at her. "Do you have a name?"
She tilted her head, then smiled. "That depends. What do you name me?"
Auren paused. He didn't know where it came from, but the word rose on its own.
> "Eléa."
She glowed brighter. "Then I am Eléa, the Firstborn of Compassion."
And with her name, a ripple spread across the land.
The soil beneath Auren's feet darkened—rich, fertile. Crystals sprouted like flowers. Gentle rivers trickled from distant stones. In the far distance, small glowing orbs began to drift—seeds of more life, waiting to take form.
> "What… is this place?" Auren asked.
Eléa extended her hand, and a circle of soft light formed around them. Within it, symbols pulsed—glyphs not made of language, but emotion.
> "This is your Domain Core. Every god awakens with one. It is your divine heart—a nexus where you shape your races, your lands, your myth."
Auren stared. "My… myth?"
> "Yes," Eléa said gently. "For every god, a race will rise. And every race, in time, will form a story. Some will worship you. Some will hate you. Some will try to forget you. But all… will carry a shard of your essence."
She turned to him with solemn eyes. "And many gods… lose themselves to the stories they write."
The wind shifted. The golden skies shimmered.
In the distance, a horn echoed—low, mournful, and alien.
Eléa froze. "Another god is nearby."
Auren felt it too—a pressure, sharp and foreign. It scraped against his mind like claws.
> "Should I run?" he asked.
Eléa looked at him. "You cannot run from divinity. You can only remember it."
From the sky, a shadow descended—a figure wrapped in obsidian flames, eyes like burning holes in the air. He landed far away, but his presence crawled like smoke toward Auren.
He said nothing.
He only watched.
> Another god. Another story.