The Dumonts: A Birth of History

This tale extends far beyond the boundaries of our world. Permit me to elucidate that the universe, as you currently understand it, is but a minute pebble in a sprawling quarry of such celestial stones, each separated by an almost imperceptible cosmic curtain. This ethereal veil maintains the separation of these cosmic pebbles, like sentinels of existence, but, as is the nature of all things, imperfections eventually surface. And it was in one such imperfection that a new chapter in the story of life would commence.

Our story commences in the distant past, a time long before the ancestors of modern humans roamed the Earth.

Homo heidelbergensis, the precursor to Homo neanderthalensis, was an ancient species that knew naught but the relentless struggle for survival.

At this juncture, there existed nearly fifteen tribes, each with its own unique customs and territories. Yet, as history has so often illustrated, desires tend to grow, and so, fifteen became five, their territorial boundaries expanding through a series of skirmishes, until an unprecedented war loomed on the horizon. It is here that our true narrative unfolds.

The Valley of Bones, a grim testament to the fallen of all five tribes, served as the backdrop for the looming confrontation. These five tribes were locked in a bitter war, each fighting for its right to exist, unaware that their destinies were about to collide on this fateful day.

A deafening boom tore through the battlefield, halting every combatant in their tracks. All eyes were irresistibly drawn heavenward as if the cosmos itself were descending upon them. A colossal object penetrated the planet's dense atmosphere, crashing violently into the earth below. The shockwave it generated was of such magnitude that it seemed to encircle the entire planet, as though nature itself recoiled in shock. What followed would remain forever shrouded in mystery, as the tribes of heidelbergensis met their inexorable end.

The world turned to brilliant, blinding white and then, as the object struck the battlefield, to fiery red. The force and power unleashed vaporized everything within a two-hundred-mile radius.

But from the ashes of destruction, the seeds of new life can be found.

From beneath the rubble, a solitary hand emerged, and the voice proclaimed, "I'm alive."

His name, spoken in a time when written language was yet to be born, was Geo'rgge.

As he inspected his own body, a strange sensation coursed through him. He could feel the changes taking place, though the full extent of their meaning eluded him.

Geo'rgge surveyed the desolate wasteland surrounding him, and then a slender hand gently rested upon his shoulder.

Instinctively, his body turned, raising a clenched fist. Even before the cataclysmic explosion, he had been the most feared warrior among the tribes.

"My champion," a voice as soft as a warm breeze murmured. His fist halted just inches from her face.

Hen're'it, he responded with relief, and, for the first time, he smiled as they embraced.

In that shared moment, their unspoken thoughts crystallized into spoken words as they held each other close, savoring the scent and essence of one another. They had survived.

This, my friend, was the moment that would be etched into the annals of history, a turning point that would set the stage for a new age.