Frickon's voice dropped lower, almost reverent.
"That's when it happened, when tearing through the very fabric of reality, from the plunging darkness, they came. Our saviors."
He paused, eyes unfocused, as if the memory itself wasn't just a story but an echo carved into his being.
"They weren't beings of flesh or flame. They looked like fragments of the cosmos itself, clusters of radiant energy swirling inside translucent shells, just like ourselves. You couldn't tell where their bodies ended and where the void began. Every movement they made rippled across existence, bending light, humming softly like a dying star trying to remember how to live again."
"And yet, they were gentle. With nothing to gain from us, they helped us rise. They didn't command or rule. They taught. They showed us how to contain the chaos within us, how to channel it instead of destroying everything we touched. They turned our weaknesses into our greatest defenses. And then… they created it."
