Upon opening his eyes, Tribal found himself facing a being who stared at him in silence. She was like him… but different.
There was no hostility in her eyes — only wonder. She was his mate. His reflection. His other half.
The figure approached, curious, as if recognizing something long forgotten.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice light as wind over calm waters.
Tribal smiled, though he felt the weight of centuries on his shoulders.
"I am Tribal, son of the Earth."
"And you… you are Alaya."
She frowned slightly, as if tasting the sound of her own name for the first time.
Tribal knelt before her and touched the soil with his fingertips, allowing the world's energy to flow through his body.
"Alaya… means 'dwelling place'."
"Not a house of stone or clay… but the refuge of the eternal."
"You are the sanctuary of the essence, the place where the Word hid when the world was lost in screams."
"In you, everything that was forgotten finds rest."
"And everything that has yet to be born… awaits."
Alaya watched him in silence, her eyes shining as if the very sky took form within them. In that instant, Tribal knew: she was not merely his daughter. She was the living memory of creation. And, perhaps… his salvation.
Akasha watched. Not with curiosity, but with indignation. It was inconceivable. A being of matter… to create. And not just create — but generate an equal.
His gaze was a sharp blade tearing through the fabric between worlds. The mere sight of Alaya, alive, pulsating, beside Tribal, ignited a silent rage in Akasha.
Involuntarily, his hand touched the mesh of space separating them — an invisible but real boundary.
Tribal felt it.
The sensation of being watched was unmistakable.
He knew this feeling.
He had felt it with Elshua.
He knew there was someone. Something.
Instinctively, he took Alaya in his arms and began to walk.
The world was vast, and there was so much to teach.
Decades passed. Time, here, was irrelevant. Every turn of the Sun was a new discovery.
They laughed. They talked. They learned.
They lived as if they were one spirit in two bodies.
But Tribal never stopped feeling it. The Presence. The constant watchfulness from behind reality.
Meanwhile, Akasha waited.
The planet was enveloped by a barrier he did not understand — a protection left by Adargas. He could not cross it. He could not touch Tribal. Nor the daughter. But he waited. And as he waited… he learned. He studied. He listened.
Alaya grew beside Tribal.
Her development was prodigious.
Everything Tribal had learned over ages, she understood in moments.
As if creation itself flowed through her.
And as the two of them grew, Akasha also evolved. He understood the planet. The rhythm. The language. The fissures. Until, one day…
Akasha entered.
After Akasha's entry onto the planet, Tribal felt his presence.
Alaya noticed something strange about Tribal.
Tribal tried to flee the presence, always keeping Alaya by his side.
Akasha loved making beings feel fear.
He chased Tribal everywhere, never revealing himself.
Until, at a certain point, Tribal stopped feeling fear.
He grew, he evolved.
He felt strong enough to face whatever came.
Alaya was different. She trusted Tribal.
She felt Tribal's fear, but trusted in their combined strength.
She also evolved and knew her limits.
They both walked, always with Akasha's presence surrounding them.
Tribal and Alaya, man and woman, beings created from the earth.
They were the dominant beings.
All animals understood them, and they also understood the animals. They lived in harmony.
When Akasha's presence ceased to be a threat, Alaya began her cycle of creation. The desire to multiply, to pass on her knowledge, grew within her. She wanted more like them.
Meanwhile, Akasha began his plan.
Tribal found himself drawn away.
A clearing, a sign, something familiar…
But upon arriving there, there was nothing.
Only silence.
And then, he knew.
Too late.
Akasha had returned.
And found Alaya alone.
She was serene and fallen into a deep sleep — the same sleep that had once taken Tribal in forgotten times.
Akasha approached. Not with violence, but with intent. And he touched the Creatrix's belly. His energy entered. Subtle. Invisible. Poisoned.
When Tribal returned, he found Alaya awake…
But something had changed. Months passed. And two sons were born.
One with an ardent, restless, impatient gaze.
The other with calm eyes, vast as the sky at dawn.
The first, Tribal named Kael.
His name meant "broken fire," for in him burned a force difficult to contain.
The second, Alaya named Lior.
His name meant "inner light," for even in silence, he illuminated.
Kael carried Akasha's hidden spark.
Lior inherited the harmony and clarity of Alaya.
Tribal felt it.
Alaya knew it.
And the world, for the first time… divided.