When Red Wrapped Lights went on the pilgrimage for children, the journey went awry. A warship and a strange battle resulted in the near-capture of the ⌈Nothing⌋, if not for the liberator known as Ronval'to. Underneath the debris of a battle and caught in the emptiness of space, he wrapped his arms around her and made her feel. It was a new thing — feeling — but they had warned that there would be changes on this journey. New visions of self. New truths. So, she leaned into it — she even welcomed a name from him, Sundazi. Together, they traveled, all of those left on the dark side of the high moon assured that Red Wrapped Lights would return eventually. Pilgrimages could take ages, after all. To immortals who never feared death, time was never of the essence.
For Sundazi, who had just learned to appreciate it, time seemed to never be enough.
For the first time since the darkness, Red Wrapped Lights was learning what existed on the other side of things. As Sacred as the Darkness had been for her, a comfort and home when nothing else had ever been, the worlds that Ronval'to showed her were staggering with beauty. Bodies that could hurt, crops that were not assured, light and life and stories that flooded everything. Even the worst of the mortal seemed worth appreciating to her, which is why she held only the slimmest reservations when Ronval'to brought her to his bed.
But he showed her his truth, then, so far as he wanted her to believe it — the way his body was just a vessel, too, for something as vast and old as she was. Their flesh was clumsy together but starved and for days, they made love, until every core inside of Sundazi was sure that she had found her way. A child was within her, one that would grow and learn all these beautiful truths just the way she had. Darkness and Light alike. A beauty that was unrivaled.
Ronval'to had other plans.
A family should be liberated from obstructions and tradition. A family should forge their own path and run, free from the mores of the worlds around them. They were made of star stuff and sacred darkness. They were light and shadow, the full figure of power through every universe that was — and every universe could be theirs. But the way that Ronval'to spoke of things — of light and breaking, of changing all the rules — it was more than a ⌊Nothing⌉ could handle. Using the power of the darkness, Sundazi died and Red Wrapped Lights ran, the egg birth coming on the journey back to the dark side of the high moon, all truths of time spent away lost to the facade of the body left dead.
⌈A Nothing⌋ makes a travel through the cosmos when there is need for new offspring. They return from some abyss, now that their original home is lost, with a new egg that will hatch new Nothing. This is the simplicity of an intricate ritual and, for the ⌈Nothing⌋ whose stars are reflected through The Luck of the Lancer, it is all that is known. When the Red Spun Lights returned with a unique egg everyone knew, right away, a new Emptiness had been made possible. From hatch until now, ⌊The Nothing⌉ have prepared the young Gold Spun Lights for a future of glorious burden: the leadership of ⌈The Nothing⌋, the totality of Sacred Darkness and ancient void.
That is the simplicity of life as a ⌊Nothing⌉. There is darkness and there is everything else, which is blessed by darkness only so often. But the ⌈Nothing⌋ that hears the lights wrapped in gold has always been a little different. There are strange truths in its past. There are bloodlines and lineages that do not add up. And that has changed its heart, given it the pathways of choice that it always felt others did not have; this ⌊Nothing⌉ has the right to make a choices instead of standing in the constant and enveloping waves of neutrality. This is all a lie, of course. A bad version of a thousand mistruths. But it is the scripture by which it lives. The choices it has made and the strength of its conviction all rely on simplicity and one truth it has held on to: the least harmed is the only blessing.
So, for ages, through lifetimes that came and went, reality was lit up only by the million wishing hearts that whispered into pillows at night. Every fracture of a prayer undedicated, every whisper of a want, and the ⌈Nothing⌋, destined to be leader with the power in their stars, listened to each and every one. When there is only Darkness — even Darkness that is full of the knowledge of truth and creation — and love written into even breaking hearts, it is easy to want to pay attention to something more. Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold was a rebel this way, damn near an apostate with the heathen way it looked toward the stars for more than missions and messages, but none could deny that the ⌊Nothing⌉ was necessary. Important, even.
So, they taught the Sacred Darkness anyway, and built power where it would be necessary. It wasn't as if Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold didn't obey every command, or believe that will was something that a ⌈Nothing⌋ deserved to hold onto. It was believed by all that Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold would be molded into a vessel of truth, understanding and easy control.
But when Chaos is destiny, it finds a way to throw things off course.
Not every ⌊Nothing⌉ goes on a pilgrimage to foster new eggs. Those that become Archways often have to travel on behest of the stars themselves. Darkness has duties, both good and bad. Sometimes it means devouring a planet. Sometimes it means helping to foster a new small destination in a galaxy. These are simple enough tasks for beasts whose burdens are greater than any planetary size — and who linger as shells of darkness on landscapes until called out for endeavors. Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold was called upon for a great many endeavours, which was always a bit of a treat — when left alone, the ⌈Nothing⌋ could linger a little while longer and listen to the hopes and hearts of those on the planets it traveled past. It made blessings out of even the worst of duties and returned full of gaiety unbecoming of an archway and future leader.
Not that many ⌊Nothing⌉ had the courage to speak ill of the future Emptiness. There were only the fellow Archways and that, in time, became the faithless mistake of the corrupt.
When a stray ship found Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold weaving through the darkness after an endeavour, it was supposed to ignore the ⌈Nothing⌋. Instead, it directed itself toward it and made contact. It was the first time anything beyond its own species had ever tried to interact directly but it was clear: the message shouted through the space that held Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold. "Your mission is done, why do you linger? Get back, fuckin' worm."
Though the ship became little more than a remnant of light once Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold finished devouring it, the message lingered. Your Mission? Could others read the stars the same way? It seemed possible and that, that gave Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold this glorious love. Others could function the same way. Others could listen and understand the Sacred Darkness.
The truth was far different. A hoax made of every faith, of every belief. Disturbance about new power, trouble with loss of new connection and funding. Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold does not quite remember the things that came next, the way the dark screamed and howled and the night was suddenly like the days of wars it had seen undergone. It did not remember leaving, either, or the way that new forms began to convulse around it. Instead it floated on the dust of hopes and wondered if the darkness would ever make true sense again.
And then, a light, shrouded in so much that it could nearly be dark itself, and a voice that said there was a way to fix this all. To restore the truth. To make good again. There was just one task to take, one endeavour that did not come from the stars but from the hopes of hearts all across galaxies.
Lights Woven with Yellow and Gold did not even finish agreeing before the whole of creation changed. The darkness of space turned into the confines of a small room with loud, thunderous hearts.