Ark--The Sundering Pt1

Ark—The Sundering Pt1

There is no such thing as 'History', only the written and spoken account of those who once lived and existed, and the biasness that may lie within their tales, and the distortions that are further added by those who come after them. Thus, it is foolish to think of 'History' as events set in stone—even today as we speak, ancient events are being modified in their retelling to better fit the likings of the teller and the audience. Instead, think of 'History' as no more than it is—a series of stories.

I am Khai'thran, and I am considered by some to be a God. I do not know if they believe this to be so because of my immortality, my powers, or my role. It does not matter to me.

What matters is the duty that I was created for—that of gathering stories, History, as it is told from the mouths of many. I am forever busy.

When the Creator first made me, even before he formed his legions of angels, I recorded his story. When the Creator met the Opposition that would ensure a balance, I was there to record their exchange. Many more tales I have recorded, and will record, for as long as I exist.

Sometimes I am summoned, called upon by other beings. Such occurrences are rare, for those that summon me know that I offer only the knowledge of the past, not the power of changing the future.

And so it was, during one such summoning, that I was asked to tell the tale of Ark. And so I did recount the tale, piece by piece, through the eyes of others.

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Galena's story

I am Galena. I was the youngest of the Creator's angels, and the least experienced. Barely had I formed from the Creator's hands, when I was given the task for which I, and all the other angels, were created.

I was to create a world—no other explanations were given by my maker. I knew little of such things, but the other angels merely nodded as if they had done so all their life (and it was true), and so I nodded too.

I am Galena, and I made the world of Ark. My efforts were pale shadows before the glory of my sisters' creations, and what I could not do by my own power, I sought to emulate. I took little pride or joy in the formation of Ark—its molted interior, its lands and seas, and its first inhabitants. The structure of the planet was but an inferior patchwork copy of my sisters' designs, and whereas the Draconi of my First sister's world were elegant, intelligent and beautiful, mine were bestial, savage, and aggressive. Dragons, I called them.

In disappointment, I set them aside to their own designs on Ark, and sought to emulate the creations of my Second sister instead. The Eledrae she created were tall and strong, smaller than the Draconi but no less impressive for their artfulness and mirth. The Elves that I created were tall but gangly, with twisted bodies that mimicked the trees in which they scurried.

I am Galena, and I was the first being to feel the pangs of jealousy, as I compared my Elves to their betters. In a huff, I let them be and turned my eye instead to my Third sister. She made beings called the Doworan, strange squat folk that worked the soil with merely the united will of their minds, forming their cities in beautiful designs of runes and sigils, in which they laughed, danced, and composed. The Dwarves I made were loud and rowdy, attacking the soil under which they lived with brute force to forge their hideous tunnels.

I am Galena, and I was the first being to feel rage and bitterness. I spied on sister after sister, taking on design after design, making inadequacy after inadequacy, and experiencing disappointment after disappointment. The Orcs came, and the Goblins, and many more other beings that I no longer remember—I left them all to live and die by their own efforts. I became obsessed with creating the perfect being—something that would allow me to surpass my sisters.

I am Galena, and I created the Humans. They were a combination of the best attributes of every failure thus far, and the first attempt that I could truly claim as my own original design. In an instant, all my rage and sorrow, hate and fear, despair and regrets vanished when I set my sights upon the beings I had created. They were perfect—not too large, not too small; not too flighty, not too serious; not too worldly, not too distant.

I am Galena, and my heart soared in joy for the first time since I came to be. Immediately, I bestowed upon the humans as many blessings as I could without violating the divine rule of non-intervention. I named them my chosen on Ark, and I granted them leave to take for themselves whatever they required from the land to prosper and multiply.

As soon as I had done this, the fatigue of my efforts caught up with me, and I departed from Ark to rest and regain my strength, content with knowing that my chosen had their proper place in the world I had created.

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I am Khai'thran, and my duty is only to record.
Poor Galena. Had she known her true purpose, or what her actions had set in motion, how differently might things have turned out.
My tale of Galena, and of how she was deliberately chosen to bring about the existence of flaws in an otherwise perfect universe, will continue through the eyes of another.