In the beginning, there was no form, no sound, and no time. There was only the Nameless One, a silence so deep that even the void dared not move within it.
From that silence, like an inevitable sigh, the Eternal Spark broke forth. It was not fire, nor light, much less shadow.
It was simply the shuddering of that which could not be, becoming. From the Spark, Mana sprouted, spreading like an infinite veil, separating existence from non-existence.
As it expanded, the planes that would sustain everything arose. At the highest point, the Aethir Vastness, a shoreless ocean where Mana remained pure and inexhaustible.
Intertwined in its unfolding, the Weave of Veyra emerged. Invisible threads stitched time and space together, giving shape to the flow of ages.
Below, finally, the plane where matter would breathe was born: The stones and seas, the skies and abysses, molded as distant echoes of the Spark.
But creation could not sustain itself alone. From Mana itself, nameless presences fragmented—abstract guardians that maintained the balance.
They were the time that ran, the memory that kept, the silence that outlined, and the will that moved. They possessed no flesh, no voice, no form, yet they were the invisible pillars of the cosmos.
Thus, the universe breathed for the first time. Every star that shone was a flicker of the Spark.
Mana was always present, flowing through the Earth like an invisible river. It moved everything from leaves in the wind to the towering mountains.
Humans? They were oblivious to its existence. They lived without perceiving the power that shaped the world.
Until, in a small and isolated village, a child came into the world. His arrival was met in silence, without cries or exclamations.
He opened his eyes calmly and stood up without making a sound. He seemed to contemplate something invisible to everyone else.
From that moment on, destiny had already marked him. The world, which seemed motionless to others, responded to his presence.
The Mana, indifferent to all before him, now flowed, choosing him as its vessel. Even as a young boy, there was something unusual about him.
While other children played without worry, he stared at the sky and the rivers. He perceived something invisible to the rest.
His parents, humble farmers, found it strange but chose not to interfere. When he turned seven, a harsh winter brought an extraordinary event.
By touching a dry tree, green leaves sprouted in an instant. It was as if spring had arrived early, without a single word being spoken.
In that moment, he understood. The Mana was not just present around him; it answered him.
Without masters or guides, he set out to discover his abilities on his own. By sixteen, he mastered earth and water, and even spoke with the winds.
But such power brought with it a heavy burden. It was on a stormy night that his abilities became known to the world.
The night began like any other. People gathered in taverns and laughter filled the air.
A soft wind brought the scent of rain. — It looks like it's going to rain hard — a man said, watching the horizon darken.
Clouds formed faster than normal. The air became heavy, charged with moisture and tension.
Lightning tore through the sky, followed by distant thunder. — This storm seems stronger than usual — a woman commented, pulling her children inside.
The wind rose suddenly. Doors slammed, tiles flew, and rain fell in torrents. Within minutes, the village was in chaos.
— Close everything! — shouted one of the elders, struggling to hold his door. The wind became so strong that one could barely stand.
The storm roared like a wild beast, threatening to tear down houses and uproot trees. — This isn't natural! — someone yelled, muffled by the howling wind.
People ran for cover, eyes wide with fear. The village had never witnessed anything like it.
Some began to pray; others huddled in silence, waiting for the worst. Then, amidst the chaos, someone spotted him.
— What?! — a woman pointed. He stood in the center of the square, calm and motionless.
— What is he doing? — a man shouted in disbelief. The wind swirled around him, but it did not touch him.
He took one step forward, then another. The heavy, relentless rain seemed to avoid his body.
— He's going to die out there! — an anxious voice exclaimed from the crowd. Then, something extraordinary happened.
He raised his hand and, for a moment, the wind ceased. The rain stopped. An absolute silence covered everything.
People left their houses, staring at the sky that slowly opened. The dark clouds vanished, and the roar was replaced by a deep stillness.
— He... he stopped the storm — a woman whispered. — How...? — murmured a young man, staring at the now-starry sky.
The entire village remained in shock, staring at the solitary figure. The boy who was always different had calmed nature's fury with a single gesture.
From that moment on, he was no longer just the village stranger. Powerful monarchs sent messengers in haste.
They arrived with promises of riches, castles, and even thrones. Each kingdom wished to claim the youth to use his power in war.
A human, without noble blood, possessing the power of gods was a rare opportunity. "If he serves us, we will be invincible!" whispered the royal advisors.
But he refused. Every messenger who brought gold and glory left with the same answer.
It was not control he sought. Wealth and domination meant nothing to him.
His journey was not to satisfy the ambition of kings. With each day, his mastery over Mana grew.
And so, he departed. He left behind his village and his simple life for lands where few humans dared tread.
His quest led him to forgotten places, never recorded by humanity. He walked through ancestral forests where elves guarded forgotten knowledge.
He crossed the scorching deserts of Karang-Thûl. There, the sun burned even the shadows and dunes moved like seas of fire.
It was there, between sand and silence, that he raised the first foundations of the Blessed City. A refuge that flourished where everything was meant to die.
He saw the red canyons of Akeli, where the wind sang like choirs of forgotten gods. He sailed the islands of Aquarius, where waters sparkled on moonless nights.
Soon, other races noticed this singular human. For the elves, it was inconceivable that a man could master Mana with such skill.
Among the dragons, creatures older than the Earth itself, the shock was even greater. — A human mastering Mana? — the elders echoed in disbelief.
Some feared him. Others longed to see him with their own eyes. He found wise elves who revealed the mysteries of nature to him.
He found dwarves who spoke of the depths and the Mana within ancient minerals. But it was in conversation with dragons that his understanding truly deepened.
Their voices, like distant thunder, reverberated as they watched him with respect. They recognized in him a force that was uncommon.
He realized his destiny was not just to master Mana. He needed to teach humanity to reconnect with it and live in balance.
His name spread to distant lands. He taught kings, peasants, warriors, and scholars.
His lessons transformed those who listened. His power transcended race, and even doubters began to revere him as a living legend.
Yet, something troubled him. A deeper mystery escaped him despite all his knowledge.
He wondered why humans were the most disconnected from Mana. There seemed to be a barrier—something preventing their full potential.
Gradually, he suspected this was not just a human limitation. There was something else at play.
Something as old as the universe had sealed humanity's magic. They feared what humans might become if they reached the Threshold.
And it was this fear that sealed the future of humanity. The confrontation was apocalyptic.
The lands trembled, the skies split, and the stars seemed to falter. But, in the end, he was confined.
His power was torn from existence, imprisoned in a realm beyond time. A millennium passed.
The name Aslam, once revered, faded into myth. Humanity forgot its history, but traces of its hero survived in whispers.
The name: Aslam Radianthe.