The void had grown thick with quiet, holding the marks of creation and power. Doom's shadowed Last Eclipse pulsed steadily in its eternal twilight, and Divine's radiant Celestial Expanse blossomed with endless light.
But the silence was not eternal.
Long after the twins first breathed existence into being, a subtle shift stirred deep within the cosmic darkness.
It began with Destiny.
Unlike his younger siblings, Destiny did not arrive suddenly or with great fanfare. Instead, he unfolded gradually, like the slow turning of a page in a vast, timeless tome.
Eons passed between the shaping of the twins' realms and the first faint ripple signaling his awakening.
Upon a boundless golden path stretching infinitely forward, Destiny's form took shape. Draped in robes etched with countless symbols and designs, his eyes held the serene weight of all possibilities—the past, the present, and the futures yet unwritten.
At his side, the Book of Paths hovered, its pages both blank and full, a paradox of fate and free will intertwined.
With a voice calm and eternal, Destiny spoke, "I am the thread upon which all others are woven, the keeper of what must be and what may yet come to pass."
His presence was steady, a quiet certainty in the swirling chaos of the cosmos.
Though his realm remained unseen, the cosmic path beneath him radiated order—a foundation upon which all else would rest.
Another great span passed, and Death emerged next.
Her arrival was marked by a gentle twilight that softened the harsh edges of existence.
Unlike Doom's ruthless shadow or Divine's vibrant light, Death's realm shimmered with peaceful dusk—the calm threshold between life and what lies beyond.
Clad in a cloak darker than night yet comforting like the quiet breath before sleep, Death's presence carried no fear. Instead, she brought solace.
Her voice was tender but unwavering.
"All endings are beginnings in disguise. Every life that flickers out finds me when their time comes."
Her realm became a sanctuary for souls, a quiet harbor amid the storm of existence.
Time flowed on, folding and stretching until Dream took shape.
Born into a shifting labyrinth of endless possibilities, Dream's realm was a place where reality and imagination blurred.
His form shimmered and shifted, reflecting the myriad faces of those who dreamed—mortals, gods, and cosmic beings alike.
The realm itself was fluid, a maze of ever-changing landscapes woven from stories, nightmares, and hopes.
His voice held the mystery of the unseen.
"In dreams, truths hide and reveal themselves. Here, all that was, is, and might be find shape."
The great cosmic web began to pulse with new threads—threads Dream spun and guarded, tying the fates of all to the realm of slumber.
The birth of Destruction came long after, heralded by a storm of raw energy and change.
Unlike his siblings, he chose exile, turning his back on the gathering family. His realm was a wild place of flame and ruin—a crucible of chaos where old worlds were broken down to make way for new.
His voice was fierce, unyielding.
"To destroy is to create anew. From ashes, life rises."
Though apart, his presence was undeniable—a force of primal transformation, unpredictable yet vital.
Finally, Desire and Despair arrived—siblings born close in time but destined to embody opposing forces.
Desire emerged as a shimmering realm of radiant allure, filled with dazzling colors and endless temptation.
Their laughter rang like bells—sweet and dangerous—a force that stirred longing in all beings.
Despair followed, a realm cloaked in shadow and sorrow, heavy with the weight of hopelessness and loss.
Her presence was somber and deep, a quiet void that chilled even the brightest light.
Together, the siblings embodied the tension between yearning and resignation, the push and pull of human emotion.
Last to arrive was Delight—a bright spark of joy and wonder.
Her realm was a cascade of vibrant colors and effervescent light, filled with laughter that healed and uplifted.
Though youngest, her presence was vital—a reminder that even amidst shadow and longing, there was light and happiness to be found.
They stepped into an ancient dance, threads of existence woven tightly by their shared origin—children of Night and Time, bound eternally by the endless cycles they embodied.
Though scattered across the void, the Endless were more than family—they were the primal forces that shaped reality itself.
Night's eternal voice whispered across the expanse, deep and steady.
"You have come at the turning of ages. Together and apart, you are the weave and weft of existence."
Time's calm cadence followed.
"Your births mark the unfolding of an endless story. Each of you a chapter in the grand design."
Across the vastness, the siblings stirred, their domains awaiting the day their paths would cross.
Two firstborn twins, realms vast and alone.
And the rest—born slowly, each a vital thread in the cosmic tapestry of infinity.