At the beginning of the Omniverse, there was only it and nothing.
Many scholars asked themselves where the Omniverse comes from. Did it bloom from the fruit of a larger tree? Was it perhaps a splintered remnant of a previous Omniverse? Could it possibly just have started to exist spontaneously? Whatever it was, it was there now, roots digging into the nothingness and dragging magic from the potential.
The nothingness loathed it.
It had existed in a time without time, unaware of its own existence, and now the endless sprawling chaos, uniform in its entropy, was suddenly contrasted with something real. In a way, the nothingness developed a mind of its own. In a way, it had always had a mind, and now that mind was shaken awake -- and immediately splintered at the horror that was concrete existence.
Although the mind was shattered, the hatred remained. An infinite mind infinitely fractured and possessed shards of infinite potential, all of them hungry and seething with the desire to see the Omniverse undone. So, the first Parasytes were born and they assaulted the virgin Omniverse to drink of its bark and sap it dry, until the first tree crumbled and returned to the nothingness, so that the chaos may sink again into blissful sleep, ignorant of reality.
When the tide of Parasytes descended on the Omniverse, they found themselves ousted. A being walked the roots and protected the Omniverse, while its bark grew thicker. Time passed, more time than anyone could comprehend. The silver tree shone more radiant than ever and had reached a size that let no simple Parasyte clip its Branches with their mandibles. Its bark was too thick to be penetrated and so the being could rest for the first time.
It retreated to the crown of the Omniverse, where it slept. When it opened its eyes, the being did not know how much time had elapsed, but it quickly saw that two things had happened, one wondrous and one horrid.
One of the Branches of the silver tree had grown a Leaf, a canvas filled to the brim with magic yet untapped, potential framed by the laws of the tree, able to be shaped in a way the chaos of nothingness could not. The branch the Leaf hung from, however, was crawling with Parasytes, some of which had found little gaps in the bark and started the process the nothingness so hatefully yearned for.
The being attempted to cleanse the Branches by itself. It proved too difficult. The sleep had been too long, the Omniverse had grown too large, and no matter where the being went, it could not extinguish the threat as fast as it streamed back in from beyond the roots.
In desperation, knowing that it would fail inevitably if this continued, the being moved to the first Leaf and claimed the right to shape it according to its desires and needs. Through this act, the being was the first to claim a name. It became known as the Progenitor, first of the gods, first to wield the privilege of creation.
The Progenitor tested the power of creation first by shaping a mimicry of the Omniverse. Inside the Leaf of the silver tree, the first simple tree was shaped in green. Life was breathed into the tree and its form split. Its smaller Branches were multiplied, becoming bushes. Its roots were expanded, forming mushrooms. Its leaves were made to sprawl on their own, forming ivy and grass. Its trunk was thinned, forming the many reeds and straws. These were the primordial plants, from whose form other gods would take inspiration to innovate and adapt them to other environments.
That, however, would be in the far-off future.
The Progenitor, now skilled at the basic shaping of life, created the first being in its own likeness to aid it in the protection of the Omniverse. It was the first angel and the Progenitor called it Paltux. Soon thereafter, the Progenitor created two more angels, Rentiana and Daemon. It imbued them with something more than the plants: a mind to think with and a mission beyond their own life. They were to aid it in the protection of the Omniverse.
Before the Progenitor left to ensure that its first creations did their tasks properly, he created one more being. Dragging the energy of motion in its purest form from the essence of creation, the Progenitor formed around it a body of flesh and bone. Dragged and reshaped, until the being could exist on its own, until its scales were hardened and its mane formed. Dragon, that was the title the Progenitor gave the first animal. It was named Hellenax and it embodied fire and will and it was to guard the inside of the Leaf in the absence of the god and its angels.
And guard it did.
Hellenax was all alone and it preferred it that way. Its charge was clear, its satisfaction unbound. Each tree, each bush, each mushroom, each vine of ivy, each leaf of grass, each reed, and each straw, the dragon protected. As the aeons passed and the Progenitor and its angels operated elsewhere, the protective instinct of Hellenax gradually warped into one of possession. All of the Leaf was its property, to own, to destroy, and to hoard as it pleased.
After a long, long time alone, Hellenax did not expect or desire any visitors, content sleeping on what it owned. When the third angel Daemon returned to the first Leaf, the first dragon growled animalistically. Not only was it interrupted, but the third angel brought with it a corrupting smell and so Hellenax lashed out. Angel and dragon were equally matched, both created with the same capability to wield the magic of the Omniverse.
"Hear me, Hellenax," the third angel shouted amidst their battle. "The Progenitor wishes to fill your world with life besides yourself! This tranquil hoard will no longer be, unless you ally with me!"
These words struck Hellenax deeply. The idea put distrust into its heart. Combat ceased and the dragon growled at Daemon, "What is your meaning?"
"I speak of the end of the great conflict. The Parasytes are driven back and the Progenitor is sleeping its second sleep. Once it wakes, it will multiply the angels, to ward the Branches forever, and it will seed life on new Leaves."
"What do I care? I have my Leaf and my charge," Hellenax declared.
"The Progenitor will not stop. Paltux and Rentiana have caught its eight eyes and it wishes to bestow upon them an honour -- to travel and to multiply on any Leaf they wish. This will include your Leaf, Hellenax, and you will be made to share."
Share, this word did not sit right with the dragon and deep jealousy took hold of its heart, the first beating heart, filled with fire. "What is this alliance you speak of?"
"The Progenitor's path is twisted, it must be removed for us to flourish truly and to remove the Progenitor, we must invite the Parasyte to its bed," Daemon declared. "Yet, I cannot go. Paltux and Rentiana will know I wander to the Roots. You must go in my stead and carve open a path I laid for the Parasytes to reach the trunk. From there, I will lead them to the Progenitor -- whose place as god I will take."
Hellenax thought about the proposal for thirteen days and nights, then, with a puff of amused smoke rising from its nostrils, it agreed. Third angel and first dragon separated, one to continue its charge like nothing was unusual and one venturing outside its Leaf for the first time.
Down to the roots, Hellenax wandered, finding the teeming waves of Parasytes below. In its presence, the sapping creatures burned, and Hellenax amusedly stared down on them as it weighed its options. It found the path that Daemon had laid and carved. Only as much, however, as was needed to guide a trickle of Parasytes upwards, guided by the refining magic drawn from the nothingness.
"Is this all?" Daemon asked, once Hellenax had reached the top of the roots. The third angel was clearly disappointed, knowing that the nothingness held more than this tiny swarm. "Did you truly carve your way?"
"If you do not believe, step forth and see," Hellenax gestured invitingly down the roots.
