𝔼𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕕

[echo]

In an age before memory, when the stars sang and the earth trembled with divine breath, the gods ruled unchallenged. Among them were beings of chaos, dominion, and eternal hunger—primordial deities whose thirst for power threatened to unravel the fabric of existence. But not all gods hungered for dominion. Two celestial beings, radiant and eternal, turned against their own. The Sun, Solarian, a fierce warrior and Father of Mankind, whose golden light once birthed life into barren soil, and the Moon, Selunara, the Watcher of Dreams, whose silver hues guided lost souls in the night, stood as lovers and protectors. Together, they wove a seal of cosmic power, sacrificing their unity and anchoring their essence into the heavens to imprison the tyrannical gods in a realm beyond reach. For aeons, they remained apart—always near, never touching, bound in a celestial dance. Mortals came to revere them in stories and song, seeing in their eternal pursuit a symbol of hope and vigilance. But time has a way of thinning even the strongest wards. Now, in a world that has long forgotten its makers, the ancient gods stir. The veil between realms weakens. Earthquakes rumble with otherworldly rhythm, and the sky bleeds strange colours. Prophets whisper of a coming war, and magic, long dormant, returns to mortal veins. Solarian and Selunara begin to awaken, their essence pouring back into the world as omens and incarnations. Yet their power, long fractured by sacrifice, may no longer be enough. As new champions rise and old enemies emerge from the shadows, the lovers must decide: will they risk reunion and unleash their full might, or remain apart to shield the fragile balance they once died to protect? The end approaches. The heavens tremble. And once again, when the Sun loved the Moon, the fate of the world hung in the balance.

 

[echo]

In the silence before the first sound, there was the Void—vast, unbroken, and endless. It was not dark, for there was no such thing as Light. It was not still, for time had not yet drawn breath. It was nothing... And then, from nothing, came thought... Creation stirred, not with thunder, but with yearning. From the breast of the cosmos, the first of the divine emerged. They were not born of womb or seed, but of will—forces incarnate, shaped by the raw dreaming of existence itself. They did not name themselves, for there were no tongues yet to speak. But among them, two were unlike the others. He rose blazing and proud, clothed in fire and truth. His laughter scattered starlight across the endless sky, and the sweep of his hands kindled the first suns. Where he walked, the ground grew hot and firm. The others watched, awed and wary, as he shaped mountains with a glance and drew rivers from the breath of the heavens. His name would come later, from the lips of mortals: Solarian, the Sunfather. She came silently, on feet kissed by the tide to Time. Silver veils danced behind her, and in her wake followed hush and wonder. Where he was heat, she was cool. Where he was force, she was feeling. With a gesture, she called down water from the stars and bent it to form seas. With a sigh, she painted the skies in mist and gave dreams their shape before they had dreamers. She became known as Selunara, the Moonweaver. It was in the twilight between day and night that they saw each other for the first time. Solarian, crowned in golden flame, beheld her across the veil of a sky yet unfinished. And Selunara, veiled in stardust, turned her gaze upon him, not with fear, but with curiosity—the first to look upon him not as a tyrant of fire, but as something beautiful. In that first meeting, the world paused... They did not speak, for words had yet been forged, but they moved together in harmony. He offered his light, and she softened it with shade. Where his rays scorched, her waters soothed. Together, they tempered one another's extremes, and their mingling shaped the world. From molten stone and wild ocean, they gave form to land and sky. Forests bloomed in the spaces between their shadows, and beasts rose from the soil and the sea. They crafted humankind not as playthings, but as echoes—shadows of light and dark in balance, caught between the day and the night. The other gods—elemental, vast, and proud—watched with unease. They who had shattered the stars and carved realms from raw space saw in Solarian and Selunara a treachery of purpose. For creation was meant to be conquered, not cherished. They whispered in the void, scheming, crafting cruel engines of unmaking, and sowing seeds of chaos. But Solarian burned with defiance, and Selunars shimmered with resolve. Still, they did not war—not yet. In those early days, the world thrived beneath their stewardship. Mortals flourished, whispering stories of sun and moon into the air like prayer. They danced in daylight and sang beneath the stars. And though the lovers could never quite meet, bound to their separate orbits, they circled each other always, ever drawn, ever apart. It was a time of wonder. Of newness. Of trembling joy. And it would not last... Beneath the roots of the mountains, in realms forgotten even by the gods who built them, the old powers turned in their slumber. Their prison, woven from sacrifice and song, trembled with the passing of ages. Their hatred brewed, rich and terrible, waiting for the hour when the Sun and Moon would falter, when the balance would crack. But that was not this day. This day was still young... And above the sleeping earth, bathed in golden hues and silver glimmers, Solarian and Selunara danced—distant, devout, and unknowingly doomed to love the world more than each other...