Part 2 — The Awakening of Instinct
(~1,500–2,000 words incoming. After this, I will continue Part 3.)
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The void answered him with silence.
A silence so deep it pressed against the very structure of his newborn mind. A silence older than anything, stretching outward like a sleeping beast with no heart and no beginning.
Erebus took another step.
The Sea of Yin and Yang churned behind him, slowly collapsing into itself, as if ashamed to show its fractured state now that its forbidden child was awake. He sensed the storm's retreat, felt its swirling forces shrink away like frightened children.
A strange thrill stirred in his chest—
a warmth, a fire, something fierce and instinctive.
Power.
Mine.
The thought came naturally, effortlessly, like breathing.
He inhaled.
Reality bent.
The emptiness around him folded in slight ripples, as though the void itself exhaled in response. Glowing motes of primordial dust danced through the air, drawn to him like metal to a lodestone. They clung to his skin before dissolving, becoming part of his being.
He kept walking.
Each footstep echoed, even though no medium existed to carry sound.
But the echoes were not mere vibrations.
They were laws forming.
Step. Space learned how to ripple.
Step. Time learned how to observe motion.
Step. Gravity felt compelled to kneel.
Step. Darkness recognized its king.
Higher and higher his awareness rose, expanding outward to taste the shape of existence. He did not yet know what stars were, or galaxies, or dimensions—but he sensed the raw clay of these things stirring inside him.
The void stretched far, and yet it felt small before him.
"Why was I born?" he asked the nothingness.
No answer.
Perhaps there was no one else.
Perhaps he was truly alone.
He paused.
Alone.
The word pierced deeper than he expected, carrying a feeling he could not name. He felt his heartbeat change. A pressure in his chest tightened, unfamiliar and cold.
Loneliness.
The first emotion ever felt in existence.
Erebus frowned.
He did not like it.
Instinctively, the darkness clung tighter to his body, swirling around him in gentle tendrils, as if trying to soothe its creator.
He touched the shadows drifting along his arm.
They responded like loyal dogs.
Life.
For the first time, he understood the meaning of the word. Life need not breathe. Life need not have a shape. Life need only obey.
The shadows bowed to him.
He felt something primitive awaken in his mind.
Then everything that lives…
will learn my name.
---
The First Light
Something glimmered in the far reaches of the void.
At first, it was nothing more than a faint, trembling glow—white, small, fragile. Erebus narrowed his mismatched eyes. The glow shimmered and pulsed, as if struggling to remain alive.
He approached it slowly.
With each step, the faint light flickered harder, struggling between existence and erasure. Finally, he stood before it—a floating orb, no larger than his palm.
It quivered under his gaze.
It feared him.
"What are you?" he asked.
The orb responded by transforming.
It elongated, stretched, cracked, and burst into a tiny humanoid shape made of pure radiance. Wings of starlight sprouted from its back. A divine halo flickered above its head.
A voice, tremulous and weak, spoke:
"I… am the First Flame…
The first spark of Light…"
It floated unsteadily, as though even its own existence was too heavy to bear.
"…born to oppose you."
Erebus stared down at the creature.
Oppose?
What did opposition mean?
The tiny being trembled but held its hands forward, forming a minute blade of radiant energy.
"You are forbidden…
You are the child of imbalance…
The storm's sin…"
It raised its tiny sword.
"You must be undone."
Erebus tilted his head slightly.
"Why?"
"B-because light and dark were never meant to merge. Your very being—your existence—is corruption. If you remain, the cosmos… will warp. It will twist. It will never be still."
Erebus blinked.
The Flame's words meant little to him.
All he understood was this:
The creature wanted him dead.
Unacceptable.
He reached out casually, not even attempting to exert strength. His hand brushed the small being—barely a tap.
The Flame shattered.
Not just physically.
Not just spiritually.
Its concept shattered.
The light evaporated into glittering dust, then was sucked into Erebus's skin, becoming nourishment.
A warm pulse flowed through him.
He gained understanding.
Light is weak.
But it exists to be consumed.
The void trembled.
The death of the First Flame created ripples that spread outward, birthing the first stars. Each ripple became a light-ball of its own, a pale imitation of the creature Erebus had devoured.
Some flared brilliantly.
Others collapsed into darkness.
Erebus watched them, tilting his head.
Creation was… interesting.
---
The First Shadow
A new presence approached him.
Unlike the Flame, this one did not shine. It crawled from the dark cracks of the void, a shifting mass of black mist, formless and cold. Whispering voices echoed from within it, countless voices layered upon one another.
"Child of Contradiction…"
"Bearer of Forbidden Force…"
"Son of the Storm…"
The mist condensed into a shape—tall, humanoid, faceless, cloaked in rippling darkness.
It bowed.
Erebus blinked in surprise.
"You kneel to me."
"Yes," the shadow said. "For you are the apex of what I am. You are the perfected form of darkness. Where that creature sought to oppose you…" The shadow's voice deepened. "…I seek to serve."
Erebus felt a strange warmth.
Acceptance.
Not loneliness.
The shadow continued:
"I am the First Shade. I was born from the storm's fear. From the Yin's dread when it realized what you were. And thus, I am your first companion."
Erebus looked down at the kneeling figure.
For the first time, he smiled.
It was faint, ghostlike, uncertain—but it was a smile.
"What do I call you?"
"You may name me."
Erebus thought for a moment.
He raised his hand, touching the kneeling being's head lightly. Shadows writhed in ecstasy.
"Umbra," Erebus said.
The shade's body vibrated like a struck drum.
"I accept my name, my sovereign."
Umbra straightened, his shapeless head tilted upward in awe.
"What is your will?"
Erebus glanced at the newborn stars far away.
"My will…"
He raised his massive hand.
The stars trembled.
"My will," Erebus repeated, "is to understand everything."
Umbra bowed again.
"Then we begin with the void, my lord."
Together, they walked into the vastness of creation.
---
The First Hunger
Hours—or aeons—passed. Time meant nothing.
Erebus discovered strange things scattered in the forming cosmos:
little clumps of matter
drifting pockets of raw energy
swirling currents of proto-reality
unstable dimensions that flickered in and out of existence
He lifted his hand toward one such dimension. It sparkled like a fragile bubble, vibrating with faint color.
"What is this?" he asked.
Umbra answered:
"The First Realm. A stillborn world. A place that tried to take shape but lacked enough power. It will fade soon."
Fade.
The word bothered Erebus.
He felt something new gnaw inside him.
A pressure.
A need.
An emptiness.
He didn't know what it was.
Umbra explained:
"My lord… that is hunger."
"Hunger."
"Yes. A desire to take in what is outside and make it yours."
Erebus felt the pressure building.
He wanted—no, needed—the energy inside the dying realm.
So he reached out.
His hand pressed against the bubble.
A crack spread across its surface.
The spark of proto-reality inside struggled, quivered, then poured out like liquid starlight.
Erebus opened his mouth slightly.
The energy flowed into him—
—and he devoured a world.
The entire realm vanished, snuffed out like a candle.
Erebus inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth circulating through his core.
He felt stronger.
Sharper.
More complete.
"More," he whispered.
Umbra bowed, smiling with pride.
"There are infinite realms to feed upon, my lord."
Erebus nodded.
And so began the first act of his true awakening.
Consumption.
He would soon learn that hunger is only the beginning.
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Part 2 ends here.