Creation

In the heart of the universe, concealed within the folds of time and space, lay a mysterious pocket of existence—a realm untouched by mortal hands. Within this enigmatic domain stood a golden palace, its shimmering towers reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a celestial giant.

Within the hallowed halls of this palace, a gathering of otherworldly beings of untold beauty and charisma convened around a mirrored altar—a portal to realms unseen, where destinies were forged and fates intertwined. The air crackled with anticipation as they beheld the reflection of a world on the brink of change—Nexaria, where the balance of power hung in the balance.

Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed through the chamber, shattering the stillness of the air like a bolt of lightning. The room quaked with the force of the sound, as the most formidable among them—a muscular giant of a man—voiced his fiery outrage.

"These damn bastards think they can toy with our children! I'll incinerate them all!" His voice reverberated off the golden walls, a testament to his righteous fury.

But amidst the chaos, a voice of reason emerged—a voice as gentle as a whisper yet as steadfast as a mountain. It was Ava, her ethereal beauty a calming presence amidst the storm.

"Calm yourself, Ribus. We must focus on the task at hand. Our children are our hope against the encroaching darkness. This child, about to be born, is destined for greatness—a beacon of light in the shadowy depths of Nexaria," she declared, her words carrying the weight of prophecy.

Yet, amidst the debate, dissent brewed like a storm on the horizon.

Moftia, with her skin shimmering like molten steel, questioned the efficacy of their chosen path.

"I too harbor doubts. My metal energy may protect, but it lacks the power to vanquish our enemies," she confessed, her voice a steel-edged blade cutting through the tension.

In the midst of their discourse, a pair of twins with unnatural grace and poise, Undos and Badvall, spoke in unison—a harmony of darkness and light, night and day.

"We believe this child should be bestowed with our powers—a master of both dusk and dawn, light and shadow," they intoned, their voices a symphony of cosmic balance.

But dissent lingered still, as the earthbound Yves, with her mountainous strength, voiced her desire to crush their foes beneath the weight of her power.

"If only the rules of this universe would allow it, I would bring the full force of the earth down upon our enemies," she lamented, her voice rumbling like shaking of an earthquake in the distance.

In the midst of their debate, a voice—a voice of thunder and lightning—roared above the tumult. It was Famthar, his electric aura crackling with divine power.

"The time has come to decide the fate of this child—the fate of our universe hangs in the balance. My wife, Ava, and I have decided—we shall bestow upon him two spirits, the likes of which Nexaria has never seen. He shall command the fiercest lightning and the most indomitable waters—a storm incarnate," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the chamber like a celestial choir.

With his words, a hush fell over the assembly—a moment of profound significance, as the destiny of a child and the fate of a universe intertwined.

As the heavens opened and lightning danced across the sky, a child was born—a child destined for greatness, whose name would echo through the annals of history.

Lassim Vanthar—a name whispered in awe and reverence, a name that would herald the dawn of a new era and protection for those too weak to weather the oncoming war.