The valley was silent once more. The Codex rested on a pedestal of stone, its scales gleaming faintly with the remnants of the vision. Flames of the torches had long since died, leaving only the pale silver glow of starlight spilling across the ruin.
Serenya stood among her disciples, her violet eyes reflecting both awe and the burden of understanding. She had seen the truth of Primovast: the First Dragon had deliberately cast away his All-Omni. He had done so to escape the monotony of omniscience and omnipotence, to allow imperfection to exist — to let the multiverse breathe, grow, and surprise.
But not all her disciples saw it as she did.
"I… I don't understand."
murmured Dalen, one of the oldest among them, a scholar whose hair had already begun to silver. He clenched his fists, staring at the Codex as if it were a blade.
"Why would a god—or whatever this… Primovast is—relinquish absolute power? Isn't that reckless? Dangerous?"
Another, Liora, a young woman of fire-touched hair, shook her head in fear.
"It's blasphemy! To cast away true omnipotence… it is creation mabye that Primovast's Will before who one created the All everything... It is chaos. We should not follow this path. This… Codex… it corrupts as much as it teaches."
A ripple of murmurs spread among the disciples. Whispers of doubt and fear danced through the stone chamber, growing louder, echoing like distant thunder.
Serenya inhaled, steadying herself. She alone could see what the others could not: the brilliance behind the act of surrender.
"Yes."
she said gently, her voice calm but commanding.
"It's truth. Primovast gave up True All-Omni. He did not do so recklessly. He chose limitation so that the Omniverse and The hyperverse and The multiverse could live. Do you not see? If he retained perfect knowledge and true absolute power, all of creation—every star, every spirit, every mortal—would unfold exactly as he already knew. There would be no surprise, no growth, no meaning. Boredom eternal would reign."
Her words caused a ripple of unease. Some disciples nodded slowly, but many recoiled, shaking their heads in disbelief.
"How can we trust a god who is not true all-powerful?"
demanded Dalen, voice trembling.
"If Primovast is limitedlessness, then what is to stop evil from consuming all?"
And here, the subtle Will of Primovast began to stir.
It did not speak, not in words. It did not act, not directly.
It whispered instead in currents of possibility, flowing through the minds of the disciples like wind through the trees.
They see fear… let them feel it.
They see doubt… let them taste it.
But they will learn… if they endure.
A faint pulse ran through the ruin, brushing each mind, nudging hearts toward choices, testing their resolve. The Codex shivered in response, as if alive, reflecting the current of the First Dragon's Will.
Serenya felt it.
She understood the rhythm behind the whispers, the subtle guidance threading through every hesitation, every trembling thought.
Even in my imperfection, I guide.
Even in my absence, I exist.
Even in the chaos of mortals, my Will moves.
She closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she saw the First Dragon, scales of black galaxy, wings stretching across the infinite void, eyes deep pools of stars.
I have abandoned perfection, the vision whispered. Yet through what I have cast away, all things may live, struggle, and rise. Even those who falter, even those who doubt, are part of my design.
Opening her eyes, she addressed the room.
"Do you understand now? Imperfection is not flaw. True Limitation is not failure. Even the First Dragon, the One who shaped all worlds infinite, cast away ultimate power so that life could exist meaningfully. Do you fear it because you cannot see the pattern… or because your hearts resist growth?"
Some disciples murmured assent, their awe rekindled. Others shook their heads, still trembling, still unwilling to accept.
And thus the fracture appeared.
The first group, the Devotees of Insight, knelt before the Codex, tears streaming. They embraced the vision, the whisper of Primovast's Will stirring their hearts toward courage and understanding. To them, imperfection was sacred. To them, the relinquishment of All-Omni was the ultimate lesson: that power without risk is meaninglessness, and life without struggle is hollow.
The second group, the Shadows of Doubt, stood apart, whispering to one another, casting wary glances at the Codex and Serenya. Fear and reverence warred in their minds. They whispered that the Codex had led them astray, that Serenya's guidance might itself be a dangerous path. To them, a god's imperfection was a threat, not a blessing.
Even as they argued quietly, the Will of Primovast lingered between them. Not to command, not to coerce, but to observe, to test, to see which hearts were ready to bear truth.
Let them choose, it whispered. Let them stumble, let them rise. All paths flow into the weave of existence.
Serenya's gaze swept over the fractured disciples. Her heart ached, yet she did not despair.
"Do not fear imperfection."
she said softly.
"Fear only blindness. Fear only the refusal to grow. The First Dragon cast away all power so that we could live, so that the Omniverse and The hyperverse and The multiverse could sing in ways even he cannot predict. Shall we shrink before this lesson, or embrace it?"
The Shadows of Doubt remained silent, huddled, uncertain. The Devotees of Insight bowed their heads, tears mingling with smiles of reverent understanding.
Primovast's Will pulsed faintly again, like a very heartbeat carried across the void. It touched each disciple, unseen but undeniable.
They choose… and in choosing, they grow.
This is the meaning of imperfection.
This is the lesson of my surrender.
Days passed in the valley. The two factions did not openly fight, yet tension simmered beneath the surface. Arguments whispered in corners. Fear shadowed the hesitant steps of some disciples. And all the while, the Codex shimmered quietly, alive, reflecting the unseen currents of the First Dragon's Will.
Serenya labored tirelessly, guiding, teaching, interpreting. She knew that the schism was not failure — it was the crucible of understanding. Those who feared would either overcome or reveal the limits of their courage. Those who embraced the lesson would flourish.
And above it all, in the threads of fate and subtle currents of reality, Primovast's Will moved like a river beneath the stones — shaping the future without imposing it.
I gave up true omnipotence so that choice may exist, it whispered.
I gave up true omniscience so that discovery may exist.
I gave up true omnipresence so that struggle may exist.
I gave up true Omnificence so that struggle may exist.
They are mortal… yet in their imperfection, the Omniverse and The hyperverse and The multiverse breathes.
By nightfall, Serenya stood alone on a hill overlooking the valley. The disciples had gone to their quarters, some still whispering, others praying, others staring blankly into the fire.
She held the Codex close and looked to the stars. In the void between them, she felt the pulse of the First Dragon's Will — patient, eternal, guiding without guiding, testing without appearing.
"Yes."
she murmured to the silent sky.
"I understand now. You abandoned true all-power, True all-knowing, True all-presence ,True all-creating… so we could live. So we could grow. So we could rise. And so I will teach them to do the same."
A faint shimmer ran through the Codex, as if acknowledging her words. A subtle current of power, gentle yet profound, brushed her soul.
Primovast's Will had whispered.
And the lesson had been received.
But in the distance, shadows lingered among the disciples. Fear and doubt had not vanished. The first seeds of conflict had been sown.
And the First Dragon, though absent in form, smiled — for imperfection had begun to walk.