Genesis

A shimmer, a shatter, a flash of light. Something burst forth from nothing, and then the nothing was Something. A being wandered the void that was itself; an endless expanse of light. From the Something came a ripple of gold. Then, a spark, something it never felt before. As it drifted across the nothing, it began to want everything. An outstretched hand. It grasped at the strands of light that billowed from itself and pulled. Delicate threads shimmered. Talons, hands, nails, claws. The limbs of Something began to weave. Weaver. The word swelled in its hearts; a name. A suitable name indeed. It thrust forth talon, hand, nail, and claw into the woven tapestry. It pulled a strand, and from the light burst clouds soft and golden. Another thread. Grass sprung from the clouds, roots intertwined to form a blanket of terrain. The Weaver stood upon the velvet blades and they yielded under its weight. A bow. Delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. It pranced across the golden landscape until it fell upon a valley. It needed… More. The Weaver again grasped at the tapestry of light and pulled a strand. From the mountains and cliffs rushed a shimmering liquid. The water danced at The Weaver’s feet. Worship. Delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. The Weaver splashed across the sprawling lakes until it reached a dell. It wasn’t enough. The weaver plucked two strings from the weave and twirled them around talon, hand, nail, and claw. From the blanket of grass sprouted trees and stones of silver – a new color to contrast the golden light, but something that shone just as brightly. The trees and stones stood tall and thrust The Weaver upwards. Devotion. Delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. Still, it wasn’t fulfilled. It once again plucked a strand from the tapestry, and around the deity rose up a city of ivory and gold. The city sparkled in the light of The Weaver. Awe. Delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. The Weaver was content. It sat upon a throne in the center of the city and looked upon its work.

As time went on, a nag, a pull, an ache, stirred in The Weaver’s Hearts. Loneliness. It tapped talon, hand, nail, and claw upon its throne and summoned forth the tapestry. Again, it thrust its limbs inside the weave of light. Before its seat sprung a stone, a puddle, and a tree. The Weaver waved talon, hand, nail, and claw, gesturing to the stone, the puddle, and the tree its grand city. Silence. They did not speak, merely stood where they were shaped. The Weaver was unsatisfied. It began to pull at strings, twisting the shapes of the stone, the puddle, and the tree, until there stood figures with talon, hand, nail, and claw. Again, The Weaver gestured across its great city, but there was no response. The Weaver considered this, pacing across the city, building roads beneath its weight. Then, it had a thought. It approached the figures made of stone, water, and wood, and took a breath; the first breath. Out from its lungs it expelled a shimmering light. That light then settled upon the figures. A blink, a twitch, a gasp. The figures stared upon The Weaver. The Weaver again gestured its limbs across its city and the figures were sang their praise with the breath of their god. Reverence. Delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. Words danced on the tip of its tongue. Three names. It beckoned the one from the stone to come forward before its throne. Luciel. The creature delighted in the name and sang a song of praise. Next, The Weaver summoned forth the one from the puddle. Ekzekiel. The creature was delighted and danced a dance of worship. Lastly, The Weaver summoned forth the one from the tree. Seraphel. The creature was delighted and whispered soft words of poetry in reverence. But The Weaver wanted more. More voices to glisten in its ears. The Weaver lowered the tapestry to its creations, and each creature plucked a thread from the tapestry. From those threads rose a figure. Luciel, Ekzekiel, and Seraphel each took a breath and exhaled the life given by The Weaver. From those breaths formed creatures, blinking and new. They looked upon the world that was created and took delight in it. Luciel, Ekzekiel, and Seraphel looked to The Weaver with pride and it nodded. They began to create more creatures to delight in their god’s creation. This paradise, this Elysium.

But again, The Weaver grew dissatisfied. It looked upon its city and longed for something more. The colors of silver, ivory, and gold grew boring to the deity. It wandered the grasslands until it reached the center of the Elysium. There it drew forth the tapestry, and thrust talon, hand, nail, and claw into the weave of light. It grasped several strings, twirling and weaving them together to form a rock of great size. It continued to weave, and splashes of color burst forth from the rock. Blue, green, red, pink, orange, black. The Weaver stood as a painter at an easel, each chord of light delicately placed. Then, it returned to its city, eager to show its creatures its new creation. Luciel, Ekzekiel, and Seraphel followed The Weaver through the clouds of the Elysium, feathers brushing through the air. Awe. Their eyes laid upon the garden world and they were enraptured. They sung, danced, and spoke their praise of this new world, and delight filled The Weaver’s hearts. Then, it took a breath. Upon the garden world it breathed, and from this breath sprung life, endless and bountiful. Creatures of various form laid paw upon the earth, fin upon the sea, and wing upon the air, and the rock was filled. The music of their voices was a chorus that the three creatures couldn’t help joining in. A word danced upon The Weaver’s tongue; a name. Eden. The hearts of The Weaver soared, finally satisfied. It settled upon its throne and ushered the rest of its creatures to view its creation. They were all in awe and were delighted. Some settled upon the garden world, while some decided to stay close to their creator. The whole of creation hummed with praise.