User:IceFireWarden/A House Divided I Auribex
Once, in the before of all things that came thereafter, within the Eternal Myriad that is existence, was P’hanoikhei. She was the Will to Move and the Will to Lay, the Light and the Dark, who was both formless and thoughtless yet possessing of all forms and thinking before such concepts learned to name themselves. As P’hanoikhei grew lonely, so did she split herself countless times and made union with each of these facets, allowing her to give birth to many children whom she loved dearly.
The first of this camp were twins, Zziuth’al and Avki’tel, who both served as P’hanoikhei’s most trusted sons and caregivers in her growing age. Avki’tel was gruff and stern, but eternally calm and understanding, so to him was given the Light and Stasis. Zziuth’al was creative and jovial, but easily agitated and prone to lapses of sadness, so to him went the Dark and Change. As P’hanoikhei labored with herself, bringing forth dozens upon dozens of sisters and brothers for its eldest, the two brothers went to constructing a magnificent house for themselves, their parent, and their siblings. And as the younger ones learned to help, thus did they come to name this House—AURIBEX.
However, even the Beginning must meet its End, and so P’hanoikhei came to grow sick and withered. She had grown too old, and had lived for far too long. As all of her children came to mourn their parent and help with the final labor, P’hanoikhei ushered Zziuth’al and Avki’tel aside and presented to them two dolls.
“I started with twins, and I shall finish with twins,” P’hanoikhei chuckled weakly. “One will be nothing but energy, chaotic but of benevolent spirit. He shall need no aid. But the other will be small and timid, easily confused, so give her these. Shakht and Prakhr are their names, and they shall bring her joy.”
And so did P’hanoikhei push and born was Aryus, the First Flame, whose cries brought heat to the House. But he had burned his parent badly in his excitement; and this scared his older siblings, for his sister had yet to come, so Invighna poked his head with a stick that caught aflame and stopped his crying quick. With a final gasp of pain and happiness did P’hanoikhei close her eyes and dream of death, giving birth to her youngest child; a daughter by the name of N’urnani, who was gifted Life and Earth.
Tears of sadness and joy were then shed, as this was both a mourning and a celebration. When adequate time had passed, Zziuth’al and Avki’tel picked up the body of their parent and told their younger siblings that they would take P’hanoikhei’s corpse to be buried in the Special Place Beyond the Auribex, returning only when the deed was done. In their absence, they elected Laorghatu—the third-eldest child—to make new rooms for Aryus and N’urnani before their return.
While Laorghatu was capable beyond his ways, for given to him were the gifts of Eternity and Passion, he soon found himself in an unfortunate conundrum—the Auribex had no more room left for two new children, try as he might to find some. And while Aryus was perfectly fine flitting through the rooms of his elder brothers and sisters, N’urnani was a willful and possessive child who disliked to share. As her siblings sculpted new dolls and props for her to breathe life into, so she may tell them stories, she soon found herself running out of spaces within the Auribex to put them.
“Laorghatu!” N’urnani whined as Aryus burned through one of her performances. “I want my own room! It’s not fair.”
And so Laorghatu called the rest of his brothers and sisters to him, telling them of N’urnani’s frustrations and proposed an intriguing idea—they would rebuild the House of their Parent, and make space for N’urnani’s room. Many of his siblings were skeptical of this idea, damning it as foolish and dangerous. Only Zziuth’al and Avki’tel knew the plans to the House, and they had yet to return. Despite the pleas and orders of their eldest brother, they retreated back to their rooms in silence and chose to mind their own business (thus we call their realm Oblivious). But others still thought it a wondrous idea, and rallied their support for little N’urnani. United in their love and with Invighna—who had been given the gift of Creativity—at the lead, the determined children proceeded to their construction.
Working tirelessly and carelessly, their minds more focused on the ‘why’ rather than the ‘should’, the children under Laorghatu and Invighna began to dismantle the House and forge it anew.
“We must get our foolish siblings to move, or we won’t have enough space to use.” Laorghatu decreed. And so, the rooms of the foolish siblings were left untouched, and pushed to the furthest corners of the Auribex as quietly as they could lest they notice (which they didn't, so now we call them Oblivious). “The rooms we built for ourselves are far too numerous and complex. We must simplify these, or we won’t have enough space to use.” And so, the rooms of the children of Laorghatu were destroyed to their collective unease, and built into one room that could house all of them and some spare, which they named Eithent.
“The room of our parent is far too large and grandiose. We must make of the old something new, or we shall have not much space to use. It is clear P’hanoikhei loved N’urnani very much, and this would please little N’urnani so.” At this the other children took great offense, for their parent's room was far more intricate and heavier than the rest. Despite his siblings’ misgivings, Laorghatu declared that he would do the deed himself, for his gifts made him arrogant and self-righteous. With Invighna providing light from the stick burning with Aryus’ flame, he began to break the room apart.
But as Laorghatu broke through the first beams, the Eternal Myriad stared back and startled him, and such was his strength that he caused the very House to shake in fear. P’hanoikhei’s room collapsed all around him, creating half-rooms and spiraling hallways devoid of meaning, which impaled and shattered those unfortunates caught in the collapse. When the dust finally settled, the House had a new shape and new foundation—the broken, twisted body of Laorghatu and his younger siblings.
“Help me!” Laorghatu cried out. “This pain is too much to bear! If I stay here, I will die!”
“It is too late for that,” cried out two voices in unison, and from behind Invighna came Zziuth’al and Avki’tel with solemn and furious faces. “While your intentions are pure, your actions are not. You defile the memory of our parent, and disgrace this House. You shall die here, Laorghatu, amidst the broken bodies of the siblings you led astray due to your own arrogance. And you, Invighna, shall forever stand outside this House and bear that constant light as a moniker of your shame, forced to hear our revelries but to never see them again.”
“But, no! Brothers!” Invighna cried out, but it was done, and the House was never opened to him again.
And as Laorghatu died he screamed and cursed himself and his siblings, cursing P’hanoikhei and the House she built. Finally, he shuddered into silence and died, his blood mingling with the blood of the fallen, embittered with hate. His spirit, seeking eternal vengeance on the House, still stalks its now-broken halls and misshapen rooms as Seiru’udac, threatening to possess the blasphemous and the violent. His heart, meanwhile, refused to stop beating, and forced itself to grow legs and wings, so that it may gnaw on the foundations of the House within and without eternity, becoming Akkrahz—the Shouting Father of Monsters.
Laorghatu’s punishment finished, Zziuth’al and Avki’tel returned to little N’urnani, who had been playing with Aryus in the Eithent. And they hugged her and kissed her confused head, noting that she had been listening, and said: “Although the reason is unfortunate, the fact it is there is not. Do not heed the words of Laorghatu’s tortured remnants, but try to bring them comfort. And do not heed the begging of Invighna, but let him be a guide, and sympathize with him. For as long as you live, all will do what they can for you, good or ill. Let this Mundex be your room, and may it bring you comfort.”
Upon uttering this, the brothers gazed at Aryus and spoke: “And let us not forget you, littlest brother. For you are the Fire of this House, the Bringer of its Warmth and the Burner of its Rot. Keep your sister safe, even if none remember you, as without you, there is no reason for any of this to matter.” And to this did little Aryus nod, although he had only been faintly listening to the words.
It was then that Hrahndeyl, who in her immemorial wanderings wandered so far between the pages that she arrived at the chapter beyond her conception, muttered in the ears of the elder twins and reminded them of the dolls their parent had given them. And so N’urnani grasped the last gifts of her parent, and smiled and cheered as her twin-brother comforted all with his hearth.
“These,” N’urnani said while shaking Prakhr and Shakht, “Are so similar as to be different, but I love them all the same. And I shall make one powerful, for it is cracked and mean but has good intentions, and the other my hero, for it is unpredictable and always has a goal. For that is how stories work, yes? I want to tell one now!”
And so, all the children, even Invighna outside the House and Laorghatu’s angry remnants below it (for they still loved their youngest sister), listened as best they could while little N’urnani grabbed her dolls and began another tale.
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