The Heart of Creation

The Heart of Creation: Patron of the Void
by P.J. Anthony
The Origins of Eldra and the Worlds Of

The Heart.png

Before song, before legend, before history, before our world – there was only one. One ethereal spirit amongst a sea of cold, oppressing darkness. The spirit was bright and magnificent, shimmering stars and sparkling ether rolling off of them in bounds. Larger than reality itself, even a fraction of the spirit eclipses a thousand stars and suns…

Yet, there in the darkness, none of this felt true to the spirit. No matter how bright they were the darkness around them seemed to swallowed their light. Crushingly bleak, the spirit felt like a dull, small thing. Insignificant and cold. Life before life was an existence one would not wish upon even the most cruel of beings. Meaninglessness and an existence without purpose will forever be far more devastating than simple death and or the spirit, not even death existed yet.

They stared into the void, quiet and alone. The void stares back and darkness breathed with the ease of nothing. Time had not yet been created, and forever suspended the spirit sat. Spiralling vines of sparkling ether twisting off from their form, but never going far, the fear of the void swallowing up their light to great to risk lighting their world. Hands clasped, kept close to their beating energy in their chest the spirit struggled just to keep warm. To keep their eyes open.

Against all this. They persisted, an ever constant refusal to give into the nothingness around them. Until in one blink of their ever-massive eyes, a small object appeared before them. Small, dead and as empty as the existence around them. A lumpy chunk of rock. Angered by yet another sign of their desolate existence, the spirit flicked the rock away. Continuing to persevere in silence.

Despite this, the rock seemed determined to aggravate the spirit – as once again, a blink of an eye – and there it was. Spinning noncommittally toward the spirit. Again, it was flicked away. Again. It returned. Blinking counting high into trillions, the spirit grew weary of moving the tiny object away. For so long they’d become accustomed to being alone – that as this intruder in their routine began to orbit their gargantuan form the the spirit felt as if their finite reality had begun to crash into itself.


“W h y    w o n ’ t     y o u     j u s t     l e a v e     m e     b e?”


The spirit cried this out into the void. Voice crackling with the ethereal essence in their form, sparks falling from their lips – light escaping only to be quickly swallowed by the dark.

The small rock didn’t respond. It could not. There was nothing upon the rock to respond with. Too tired now to be angry, the spirit reached forth. Tentatively pulling the rock towards them for inspection, frightened of the difference in size between them. Careful now not to damage the tiny shard before them. Eye level then, the spirit could see the pock marks from when they had flicked the rock away. Craters and canyons split across the surface.


“W h y    r e t u r n    . . .    W h e n   I    o n l y    h u r t    y o u.”


Silence answered back. For a brief moment their light flickered – shame rising in their body. The first lull in the emptiness had been met with their own hostility. Unable to look at what they had done the spirit released the rock, gently easing it away.


“G o    n o w.    F i n d    s o m e t h i n g    b e t t e r.”


Head hung low, twisting tendrils swirling in close around the spirit to mask their eyes. Even the darkness they had so long looked into was prying away their last shreds of resilience.

They remained like that. Until. Once again the rock nudged into them. Eyes opening gently they took up the rock again.


“W h y.”



W H Y.”


The sound echoed across the darkness. A ripple cascading outwards, their own light shaking as the sheer intensity of their voice moved even the void. Glaring down at the rock the spirit spied something amongst the dark. Eyes widening at the sight. There, in the void, almost invisible to those who did not watch – a tiny, weak tendril pushing against the darkness. Black and dark like the void itself, it pushed. Pushed the rock ever towards the spirit.


“Y o u.   A r e   y o u    t h e r e. . . ? ”


The tendril responded with a weak push against the rock. Wavering in its movement, tired and ever faltering.


“T h i s    . . .   ” the spirit whispered, gazing at the rock, “W a s,    f o r    m e?”


As if to answer the question the tendril reached for the spirit’s cheek, caressing it softly before pulling away. Receding back into the void around the spirit.


“W a i t !    D o n ‘ t    l e a v e    m e.”


Silence prevailed. The darkness remained. Yet, now, the spirit was not alone. So long they had spent assuming the darkness was there to crush them, to take away their light and leave them alone in the void. So long they had not realized that the ebbing waves of darkness around them were there to hold them; not to destroy them.

A surge of light emanated from the spirit, stronger than any light they had ever had. From their eyes poured great drops of ether, sparkling, radiant orbs of pure reality.

While their light was more brilliant than ever, the shaking sobs of such a grand spirit would bring any nation to their knees in sorrow.


“F o r     . . .    s o    l o n g    I    i g n o r e d    y o u     –     N e v e r    a g a i n.    N e v e r   a g a i n.”


One drop, smaller than all others, fell upon the rock in the spirit’s hand. Engulfing the tiny, bleak thing in brilliance. Shimmering greatly as the spirit curled around the rock. Holding it in the center of them protectively. Now, the spirit only saw the rock – simply now allowed the darkness around them to descend upon them. Cradling the spirit as the spirit itself cradled the rock.


“Y o u    w i l l    n e v e r    b e    a l o n e.”

In that moment the ether that dropped from the spirit onto the rock flared. From it sparking the most miraculous to ever be called into existence:




About P. Anthony

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