"There is an ancient story of a God, broken and scattered abroad. What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?
Beside a road there is a stone face and an inscription that says, “The True Portrait of the Holy Face” If we truly knew what it was like, the key to the parables would be ours and we would know the truth!
We lost those features, as one may lose a magic number made up of the usual ciphers, as one loses an image in a kaleidoscope, forever. We may see them and know them not. Perhaps a feature of that face lurks in every mirror; perhaps the face died, was erased, so that God may be all of us.
Who knows but that tonight we may see it in the labyrinth of dreams, and tomorrow not know we saw it."
~Chant of the Cult of the EverGod (Adapted from Jorge Luis Borges)
In ages past, before the world was born, when all was dust in the wind, a being existed. It was the embodiment of chaos and order, good and evil. Things that shouldn’t be together but were. It was everything and nothing, and yet, it was lonely.
It sought to invoke things, ideas, and concepts, to fill the void, but even the best of its success were only fleeting at best; It simply wasn’t very good at creating things. The more it tried, the more it aged. Thinking was harder, and moving was slower.
Eventually, as it once more strove to create, part of It crumbled away. Curious and yet mildly alarmed, It tried again with similar results - another piece of its being fissured, more crumbling away.
It was apparent that its time was done. In the final throes of its efforts, the fracturing of its power begat new beings into existence -- strange fractured creatures, nearly as powerful, but not nearly as conflicted. They were more focused, less part of everything. It knew then that these godlings would succeed where it had failed.
What remained of the being collapsed unto itself, a roiling ball of unfettered chaos.
As the fractured legacy of the being became aware of their own existence, one final question sloughed through the being's vast, ancient mind: Could they control the chaos within...?