Aeru awakens alone, a single breath of thought stirring the vast silence of the void. In that first moment, they are the question and the answer, the dream and the breath that follows. From this quiet wonder, Aeru reaches out and brings forth Antaz—of water and air—and Sujaz—of earth and fire. Together, these three weave the bones of Khassid: mountains, oceans, skies, and the endless possibility of form. Where once there was only stillness, now there is the first heartbeat of creation.

Antaz and Sujaz forge Khassid with hands of stone and song, of river and flame. They shape the mountains with gentle patience and carve the valleys with flowing breath. The seas rise and the winds sing across them; forests of thought become forests of root and leaf. Yet even in their careful crafting, something stirs—a hint of what lies beyond their grasp. The world takes shape, but not entirely as they intended: in every stone’s shadow and every wave’s whisper, possibility gathers, waiting.

From those quiet spaces, The Wild emerges. She is the song of life that cannot be written, the breath that fills the spaces between creation’s careful measures. Forests take root where none were planted; rivers change their course to follow her quiet laughter. Fish swim in the deep waters, and the first animals lift their heads to the sky. The fey folk dance in moonlit glades, woven from her boundless breath. The Wild does not ask permission, nor seek dominion. She simply is.

Aeru, Antaz, and Sujaz look upon her with wonder. In The Wild’s arrival, they see a promise fulfilled: that even in order, there is room for bloom and chance. In the hush of that moment, they understand that creation is not a single act, but a living thing—unfurling endlessly, beautiful and ever beyond their reach.