Story: In the Light We Fell
The inky, infinite cosmos was my cradle, my playground. As a Voidborn, I reveled in the ethereal ballet of the universe, the tapestry of creation and destruction. It was from this timeless abyss that I first glimpsed Autumna, a glittering jewel teeming with life. Mortal civilizations thrived on Autumna, a grand orchestration of life and death. Their towering cities reached for the stars, their monuments to ambition etched across the landscape. The gleaming spires of the Elari, the soaring citadels of the Zephyrians, the labyrinthine undercities of the Oakenroot, each bore testimony to the heights mortal life could aspire to. And yet, they were like insects to us, the Voidborn. Mortal life was a flicker against the backdrop of eternity, a brief spark in the cosmic dance. Their dreams, hopes, fears...all were fleeting distractions, their souls ripe for the harvest. Descending upon Autumna, we left the cosmic void behind. Our arrival was a cataclysm, a storm of chaos and terror that swept across the globe. We savored the devastation, intoxicated by their fear. The mighty Elari fell before us, their once-gleaming spires crumbling under our might. The proud Zephyrians, protectors of the skies, were brought to their knees, their citadels reduced to rubble. The resilient Oakenroot, barricaded in their subterranean fortresses, were drawn out from their labyrinthine depths and snuffed out. Amidst this carnage, we turned our gaze towards the Solus, a humble race of farmers. They held a simplistic existence, far removed from the grandeur of the Elari or the pride of the Zephyrians. To us, they were but dust in the wind, their insignificance only surpassed by their frailty. Yet, their resistance sparked a flame of defiance that would soon engulf us all. Against the onslaught of the Voidborn, the Solus stood their ground. Their transformation was a spectacle to behold. From humble farmers, they rose as warriors. Each fallen Solus fueled their resistance, each Voidborn they felled empowered them. The ember of defiance had kindled into a blaze. Our amusement curdled into fear as the Solus began to harness our power. The cattle were rising against their predators. They learned to rip our essence from our fallen brethren, their mortal bodies pulsating with the power they were never meant to wield. The very power that we had lorded over them was now turning against us. They became relentless, their vengeance insatiable. The Solus, now reborn as Hazrad, hunted us across the rifts, plunging into the inky blackness of the cosmic void. It was a terrifying pursuit, a deadly dance of predator and prey. The once meek farmers were now the hunters, and we, the Voidborn, were the hunted. One by one, my brethren fell. The Hazrad, once so feeble and insignificant, had become the harbingers of our doom. They scattered our essence across the cosmos, silencing our voices. Autumna was theirs once again, a world guarded by its former victims. Now, I am but a specter in the abyss, a silent observer of the cosmos. The surviving Voidborn, scattered and hiding, are remnants of a forgotten terror. The Hazrad, once the insignificant Solus, stand as the guardians of Autumna, the light of their spirits a stark contrast against the backdrop of the cosmic void. The mortal cattle had become wolves. From the ruins of their world, they had risen, stronger and fierier. The Voidborn were brought low by the very beings we deemed unworthy. The light of the Hazrad is a harsh reminder of our hubris. Underestimating mortal life, indeed, is a folly. We learned the hard way.
Understanding is a four edged sword.
This is a story told from four perspectives. See the other three below.