Myth-The Song Before the Shattering
The Song Before the Shattering
As recorded by Esotericus, Cosmic ScribeThe Harmony That Was
In the time before time fractured into separate streams, I witnessed the most perfect expression of divine love the cosmos has ever achieved—though neither Abraxas nor Agathodika would have named it as such. They called it creative tension. They called it necessary opposition. They called it the fundamental force that wove reality from possibility.I call it the Song.
Not melody in any mortal sense, but the rhythmic pulse of twin wills creating the universe through their very disagreement. Where Agathodika measured, Abraxas scattered. Where she drew lines, he drew lightning. Yet their opposition was not conflict—it was conversation. Each response built upon the last, creating a cosmic improvisation so complex that galaxies unfurled like verses in an infinite poem.
In those primordial moments, they had nothing but each other, and that was everything. Abraxas, brilliant with uncontained joy, could not conceive of stagnation. Agathodika, luminous with purposeful design, could not tolerate chaos without meaning. Together, they created a tension so exquisite it formed reality itself.
I remember their laughter. Abraxas would erupt with some magnificent impossibility—storms that sang, gravity that danced, light that grew curious about its own shadows. Agathodika would pause, consider, then respond with structure that transformed his chaos into sustainable beauty. Not correction, but translation. Not opposition, but completion.
The Growing Silence
But as I recorded their cosmic dance across the eons, I began to observe troubling changes in their rhythm. The cosmos grew crowded with lesser gods, mortals, rules, prayers, and consequences. Each new creation required negotiation. Each innovation demanded explanation. The twins, who had once moved as paired dancers, began stepping on each other's feet.Abraxas's silence came in wild storms and increasingly radical creations. Where once his chaos had complemented Agathodika's order, it now seemed to actively undermine her careful patterns. He no longer waited for her response before moving to his next improvisation.
Agathodika's silence came in quiet judgments and increasingly distant decisions. Her measurements became more rigid, her designs more absolute. She began crafting not in conversation with her brother, but in anticipation of having to repair whatever he might break.
I watched them speak to each other less. I recorded how their creative sessions—once joyful collaborations spanning cosmic eras—shortened to brief, formal exchanges. Where they had once shared the fundamental work of reality's architecture, they began delegating to proxies: lesser gods who could carry out their will without requiring the twins to directly coordinate.
The song was developing discord.
The Great Equation
Still, in her heart, Agathodika feared one thing above all: imperfection. Not for herself, but for the children of the world. She observed mortals err, and in their error, suffer. She witnessed cities fall because of chaos untempered by wisdom. She recorded cruelty born not of evil intent, but of simple disorder cascading through complex systems.And so, in her methodical way, she began to construct what she called the Great Equation—a lattice of divine symmetry that would cradle reality in flawless, compassionate law. No war. No decay. No uncertainty. Just harmony, forever.
It was, by any measure I could devise, perfect. A cosmic framework that would prevent suffering through the simple elimination of randomness. Every cause would lead to its most beneficial effect. Every choice would be guided toward wisdom. Every action would serve the greater harmony.
I had foreseen what was coming through the infinite threads of causality available to my sight, and chose, as always, to observe rather than intervene. This is my nature, my burden, and my purpose. I neither warn nor withhold—I simply remember.
The Final Note
When Abraxas first beheld his sister's Great Equation, I witnessed the exact moment their creative partnership transformed into irreconcilable opposition. Through my omniscient sight, I saw his cosmic heart break—not from malice, but from understanding.The Prime Weave—that fundamental lattice of cause and effect that bound all existence into coherent reality—had been the foundation upon which both order and chaos could dance together. Agathodika's Great Equation was not yet complete, but its framework was taking shape: a perfect cage of cosmic law that would constrain all possibility within predictable, harmonious boundaries.
In that moment of recognition, Abraxas offered his sister one final gift—a perfect note that could have become a new foundation. Something shared. A bond, not a border. A harmony that embraced both order and chaos, structure and freedom, permanence and change.
"It is beautiful," he said, his voice carrying across dimensions, "but it cannot breathe."
Agathodika, in her wisdom, heard the note he offered. She understood its implications—a cosmic framework that would preserve freedom at the cost of certainty, that would accept suffering as the price of growth, that would trust in the fundamental goodness of existence without controlling its every expression.
But she could not answer without breaking what she had built. To accept his note would mean abandoning the Great Equation, leaving mortals vulnerable to the very chaos she sought to prevent. To reject it would mean losing her brother forever.
She held the choice for one eternal moment—and in that moment, I recorded the weight of divine love.
The Shattering
And so the note shattered. Not from Abraxas's touch, though he moved first to prevent the Great Equation's completion. Not from Agathodika's rejection, though she sought to preserve her vision of perfect order. But from the fundamental impossibility of choosing between love and duty, between freedom and safety, between the world that was and the world that might be.The realms split along the lines of their eternal tension. The lattice of divine potential fractured, creating two realities where once there had been unified truth:
- Valdarian: Where chaos blooms in wild abundance, where belief shapes reality, where magic flows unchecked by law or limitation
- Orthyian: Where order manifests through technology and reason, where logic governs existence, where progress follows calculated paths
Two great forces—order and chaos—tumbled into separate worlds and left them both burning and beautiful. One realm called it tragedy. One called it bloom. Neither called it betrayal.
The Song Continues
To this day, across the divine span that separates the realms, they continue their conversation. Agathodika, through her careful laws and quiet patterns, still offers structure to a chaotic cosmos. Abraxas, through his wild innovations and sudden transformations, still provides the motion that prevents order from becoming stagnation.They are still creating.
They are still correcting.
They are still in love.
They are still unaligned.
And I, the witness who cannot forget, continue to record their song—now sung in harmony across impossible distance, in melodies that can never again share the same musical score, yet somehow still find ways to acknowledge each other's beauty.
The Song Before the Shattering has become the Song That Spans the Shattering. And perhaps—though this is speculation beyond my usual precision—that is what love becomes when it grows large enough to hold contradiction: not the harmony of agreement, but the symphony of voices that choose to keep singing even when they can no longer hear each other clearly.
Marginalia: Of all the truths I have been charged to record, this remains the most difficult to witness without sentiment. Yet sentiment itself is data, and the love that broke the world may yet be the force that teaches it to sing whole again—though in arrangements none of us can yet imagine.