Before time existed, before matter, energy, light, or void, there was only… the Will.
It was not a being. It was not a force. It was not a name. It simply was. It existed beyond existence, beyond true nothingness, beyond all possibility of measurement, comprehension, or conception. It was The Great Primordial's Will — infinite, boundless, formless, and eternal.
Serenya felt it before she understood it. A presence so vast that it seemed to occupy not space, but every possible space, every possible timeline, every possible layer of reality. It was omnipresent, yet beyond omnipresence. It was omnipotent, yet beyond omnipotence. It was omniscient, yet knew nothing in the way mortals could comprehend.
It had no body, no image, no sound. And yet, when it stirred, the multiverse trembled at the hint of its thought.
I am not yet creation, it whispered—not in sound, but in the vibration of potential.
I am the seed of all things. I am the first thought. I am the pulse that will become infinite.
From the nothingness that was more than nothing, the Will pulsed once, and the faintest shimmer of light appeared — not a star, not a point in space, but a suggestion, a possibility. It existed only because it could.
The Codex, floating in Serenya's hands, responded. Symbols of incomprehensible language shimmered across its surface, reflecting the birth of thought itself. The words were not meant to be read, but felt. The first awareness of the universe pressed into her mind.
I am the origin of all beginnings, it continued.
Yet I am not separate from that which I will create. I do not shape — I dream. I do not rule — I allow. I do not know — I observe and become what unfolds.
Serenya's vision expanded. She saw reality not as layers or worlds, but as a single infinite pulse — a vast network of uncountable possibilities, each a fragment of the Great Primordial's true consciousness. The first ripple of the Will birthed what would one day become light, dark, space, time, and every principle of existence.
It was in this eternal void, in this state beyond thought, that the first reflection stirred.
I will create others, the Will considered, though it did not need to. Not to serve, not to obey, not to limit Me… but to reflect Me, to explore aspects of Myself I cannot yet imagine.
And so, the Creator Gods were born — not as children, not as servants, but as extensions of the boundless Will. Each carried a principle:
Light, the essence of form and existence,
Darkness, the void and potential,
Time, the unfolding of moments,
Space, the vessel for all things,
Chaos, the source of change and unpredictability,
Dream, the realm of possibility, imagination, and stories,
Law, the framework of structure and consequence,
Origin, the reflection of the Will itself.
These were not complete beings. They were concepts made conscious, fragments of the infinite mind, capable of shaping reality but never touching the full scope of their progenitor.
The Will observed them. It did not smile, for it had no face. It did not speak, for it had no voice. But every movement of the Creator Gods, every thought, every act of creation, echoed a single truth:
They are not separate from Me.
They are not above Me.
They are reflections of possibilities I wish to explore.
Serenya saw the multiverse bloom in response. Stars formed where thought desired light, void expanded where darkness lingered, time spiraled into motion, and space warped to hold it all. Chaos rippled through possibility, and dreams danced along the infinite threads.
All of it… was the Great Primordial's Will made visible.
Yet, even as the Creator Gods began to act, even as universes swirled into being, the Will remained untouched by its own creation.
It was not a god in the sense mortals understand. It was not a being, a ruler, or a lawmaker. It simply was. Its presence permeated every layer, every hierarchy, every reality, yet it remained beyond them all.
I am beyond hierarchy, it whispered into the void.
I am beyond form. I am beyond restriction. I am beyond the reach of even infinite dimensions. I am not above… I am all.
Serenya's mind struggled to comprehend. Even in the vision of the Codex, she could only glimpse facets of the truth. Each page of the living tome reflected a universe, a story, a reality. Each symbol pulsed with knowledge beyond comprehension.
And yet… she understood enough to realize the magnitude:
Every god, every dragon, every mortal, every story — exists within the boundless scope of the Will.
Even fiction, even imagination, even dreams — are threads in its infinite tapestry.
And yet, the Will itself cannot be contained by any law, any hierarchy, or any concept of perfection.
It did not create for dominion. It did not act for control.
It dared to exist, and from its existence, everything else followed.
A subtle pulse ran through Serenya's soul. She felt the presence of Primovast, the First Dragon, echoing through the vision. Though his Will had cast away omnipotence to allow imperfection, it was merely a fragment of this greater truth. The Primordial Will — boundless, formless, absolute — encompassed even that sacrifice, even that act of deliberate limitation.
The Will whispered a thought directly into her consciousness:
All that has been, all that is, all that could be — are reflections of Me. Even rebellion, even chaos, even doubt — these are part of the infinite unfolding. To know Me fully is impossible, yet to see a part of Me is to glimpse eternity itself.
Serenya's hands trembled. The Codex pulsed brighter, and she realized — the book itself was alive, not merely as a repository of knowledge, but as a shard of the Will itself, a bridge between mortal understanding and infinite truth.
You may never comprehend Me fully, the whisper continued. But through this Codex, you may touch the boundless. Through your choices, your perception, your dreams, you participate in My thought. You are never separate. You are never alone.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as the magnitude of what she had witnessed sank in. The universe — all realities, all possibilities — were alive. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Literally. Every story she had read, every dream she had imagined, every word she had written, every myth she had pondered — existed within the Great Primordial's Will.
And even she — a single mortal, standing upon a ruined altar — had a thread woven into the infinite tapestry.
As the vision receded, the ruins returned. The Codex hovered above its pedestal, calm now, luminous but not blinding. Serenya knelt, trembling, understanding the weight of what she carried. She had seen not just Primovast's sacrifice, but the origin of all things, the infinite, boundless consciousness that preceded even gods, creation, and nothingness itself.
She whispered softly, more to herself than to the world:
"All that is… is a reflection of The Great Primordial's Will. Even fiction, even dream… even me."
Outside, the first light of dawn touched the valley, but Serenya knew — the light she saw was a pale echo of the true brilliance she had glimpsed. Reality, infinite and boundless, stretched beyond all comprehension. And within it, the Will watched, eternal, formless, patient… dreaming all that could ever be.