Prologue: The Watcher Who Forgot

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? / Who watches the watchmen? / Who will guard the guards themselves?”

— Juvenal (Decimus Iunius Iuvenalis), Satires, Satire VI. Composed during the late 1st to early 2nd century CE. Translated by G.G. Ramsay in The Satires of Juvenal (1918), Loeb Classical Library No. 91, Harvard University Press. Public domain.

Ere Chaos shifted since before the beginning of time.

In their lonely territory, they existed as a solitary figure of coiling obsidian and colliding starlight. One moment, they were solid, and the next, they were a flicker of molten brilliance, and the instant after that, they were an absence that swallowed what little could be called the vacuum of space. Within the leaps of transitions, the form of this Progenitor was both gaseous and liquid in its facsimile of appearing to be firm.

They were, are, and would be all of those forms, and none; a living contradiction blended with an eternal becoming to sum up the Grecian Progenitor to others. Below, above, within, and beyond, this was their realm of everywhere and nowhere.

Islands with pillars and stone platforms floated in the void of near-nothingness to accentuate the secluded lonesomeness meant for the confusing disorder that was the creating Progenitor of Chaos.

Time drifted here like smoke on a breeze.

However, none of this tranquility could take hold with Chaos, for something was amiss.

There was a deep secret that they had hidden away from their creation. There had been a purpose for their making of the Primordials, Titans, and gods.

Two entities were essential for Chaos’ intentions when it came to the making of all things. A single reality stretched thin across infinity could be made for a singular purpose: to bring forth a champion who could stand against their great enemy.