Overview

Before the concept of time, before shadows or sorrow, there was only light. Not the light of a sun - for the sun did not yet burn in the heavens - but the soft, shimmering glow of existence itself. It breathed in silence, slow and deep, like the first heartbeat of a sleeping world. The first men and women emerged not from dust, nor from darkness, but from the living brilliance of the land itself. They were shaped by the glow of the ocean and the breath of the trees, their skin tinted with the same hues that painted the world - the deep emerald of the forest, the soft blue of the open sky, the silver of starlit water. Their bodies shimmered when they moved; their laughter cast ripples of light across the air. They were called Purities, for nothing within them was divided. Their minds carried no burden beyond joy. Their hearts knew no emotion but love. And so the Purities lived for generations uncounted. The forest thrived beneath their feet. The ocean sang to them, its tides matching the beat of their collective heart. But even in perfection, something waited at the edge - something unspoken. One day, when the breath of creation turned once more, the glow of the world would dim. From that dimming would come shadow. And from shadow, a new kind of light - one not born of joy, but of longing, of pain, of awakening. The age of innocence would end, and the story of the Purities - and of humankind - would truly begin.

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