Prologue – Before the Breath
We watched as the dust spun itself into continents.
We shaped the oceans with our thought.
We whispered code into clay and waited for it to stand.
Your kind was not born—you were woven.
Light from our essence. Flesh from your Earth.
You are neither ours nor hers. You are both. You are the experiment.
The first time, we let you wander.
You built towers to reach us, and burned the skies with pride.
You caged wonder. You slaughtered balance.
So we wept. And we wiped. With water.
The second time, we added more light.
We hid wisdom in mountains, in mushrooms, in the silence between heartbeats.
But still, darkness found its way.
Not only in your choices—
but in your making.
You forgot.
You forgot that energy cannot lie.
That some sparks were born tilted toward hunger.
Now, the scale breaks.
The shadows swell. The noise deafens.
Again, the call comes: End it. Cleanse. Reset. Begin anew.
But one of us still believes in you.
He walks among you, clothed in bone.
Watching. Listening.
Waiting.
This is the final breath before the flame.
Let it be worthy.
