neil (neil_engl_mun) wrote in etwentyten,

Assignment #5 (redo and PT 2)

Few know the story of Time. The story of how our world came to be and how it will end. Fewer believe it. Only one believes it can be rewritten.
PT 1

Before Time knew instance and occasion…before light was taught to speak…before THE ONE knew THE MANY…there were THE TWO. Two eternal beings (if eternal can be right at all since they are beyond names and finite words. Let us better call them opposites: in finite terms, comparable to yin and yang, up and down, light and dark.). These, what some might call divinities, have been at war for an age immeasurable by numbers, leaving behind them a wake of ruin and devastation. Consumed by their mutual hate, they destroyed their world in their battle.

Recognizing no way to kill the other, each being’s hatred fueled their war as it pressed on until everything – everything in being, in form, beheld by eyes - was destroyed. Having no plane on which to carry on their battle, the rivals were forced to create one. Only together could they accomplish this atrocity of creation. Opportunity for deception was reason enough to work together, each believing they could outsmart the other. It took all their collective power to make this battlefield since the energy required was unique. It was unique because there needed to be infinite battlefields to facilitate their ceaseless yearning. With pieces of themselves, they created the best they knew how - in opposites.

Darkly chaotic, yet beautifully woven, like an elaborate tapestry of patterns secret to all but the weaver, a subsisting constitution was born. Marvelous it was, yet in vile purpose it was made.

Their plane was created, but the nature of battle became new. They no longer had any physical forms, or strength, or mastery of what some might call elemental magic. This was forfeit to create the vessel for their hatred. They could exist in essence only, guiding the hopelessly fated courses of their minions on the plane.

Their followers - the life-hands that each had spawned to thrash at the other – like the tapestry, were born from the bile of their hate. They were fashioned as conduits, built to carry messages of destruction. What had once been a battle of pure hatred suddenly evolved into a territorial struggle for dominance over all battlefields. Like a narcissistic game of chess, the two halves of destruction clashed the steel of their wits, the sound reverberating through the strings of the cosmos, plucking some and pounding others. The satisfaction of slicing the other’s hands was the closest proxy they had.

That had always been their outward purposes in existence – to kill the other – their sole line of vision blinding them: They did not see the elegance of their creation – the product of power and sacrifice; a vessel not only for odium and impiety, but also for life and purpose. They did not see the balance created in their chaos of opposition. They only saw their enemy in a cross hair.

They waged their wars on field after field, leaving behind the decay of nothingness and rot of emptiness. Pulling out weave after weave, their battlefield tapestry began to mournfully unravel, like everything touched by time. Yet these warriors had no eternities to count. They would not corrode because there was nothing left of them. Nothing but an empty chasm of hate, hollow and hopelessly empty. They would continue to wage their timeless war until one had destroyed the other and everything lost again.

PT 2

Master weavers were THE TWO, but there was something they could not predict. On the brink of awe from their own creation, they saw that only half the work was done. Solving one problem created another: They needed new weapons. Although they had nothing of themselves with which to build their weapons, there was an ample supply of life and time to draw from their boundless plane.

An exact brew - with precision measurements of life, essence, time and tangibility – they found that beings were not created so easily. As they climbed the pyramid of obstacles that eventually reached the pinnacle of their creation, suns ignited; masses of stone began vibrating, then moving, pushing and pulling each other, colliding and merging, colliding and fragmenting, until each finds its place in an eternal harmonious dance with a star.

Coupling the boundless light and heat of the star with the cold darkness of barren rock provided the required setting for this catalyst of divinity. The body of life had been formed, now to fill it with essence.

Their creation was beautiful: it had vision in order to see its world, the stars and its enemy; it had smell with which it could follow the air and track its prey; it had speech to give thanks to The Two and to teach The Many who will follow; it had hearing to follow the speech and the air it couldn’t see; it had touch to feel the pain from the blade of the enemy and know fear; and it had understanding to bind them all. Not any ordinary understanding, but an understanding of the pattern: of the beginning, of THE TWO, of their purpose, of their Time. THE ONE was not blinded by hate because it had not learned it. It could see the elegance of the dualism and the necessity of this majestic codependence, that each was realized through the other. It could also see its own doom.

With their template complete, THE TWO made THE MANY in the image of THE ONE. Having served its purpose, THE TWO planned to destroy THE ONE by using its essence and being to bind the planes together, like a labyrinth surrounding a web of days. This would keep their minions from ever knowing the truth of their existence and purpose (that they were born to kill and die). The lesser beings would never achieve a higher level of understanding, because they would never navigate the maze through the stars, they couldn’t. But THE TWO had been blinded yet again.

They did not anticipate the foresight of THE ONE. They did not anticipate the bold sacrifice of THE ONE and could not understand it. They were oblivious to the kinship within the essence of THE ONE and oblivious to its existence within THE MANY. THE ONE chose self-sacrifice when THE TWO could have been destroyed. THE ONE could not destroy them because it would mean doom for the children. THE ONE loved the beings that would be made in its image and gave its self to bring light to their shadowed minds.

When THE TWO cast the mold of THE ONE, an imprint was left. This imprint would guide THE MANY through the labyrinth, leading them on the path THE ONE left in its essence. Only when THE MANY realize THE TWO through THE ONE will everything be saved.

PT 3…
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