The Tree grew fruit. But the fruit were not living beings. They were glowing spheres of logic.
The Ember spat out the memory of Brave Sun. It stripped away his pride and anger, leaving only pure Heat. It hung this sphere in the sky. The Mechanical Sun.
The Ember spat out the memory of Starry Wisdom. It stripped away her deceit and jealousy, leaving only pure Light. It hung this sphere in the night. The Mechanical Moon.
The Ember spat out the memory of Ren. It stripped away his ambition and fear, leaving only the flow of moments. It poured this into the ground. The River of Time.
"Perfect," the Ember said. "They have no hearts, so they cannot hate."
The world was rebuilt. It was clockwork. The seasons turned perfectly. The tides moved perfectly. But there was no Life. It was a beautiful, sterile cage.