CHAPTER ONE

THE BIRTH OF A NEW AGE

The Mist of Time was a dark, horrible grey thick and endless, with no sign of light. Thunder and lightning shattered across the stars, echoing through the emptiness. The void was dead, long gone, no longer existing as it once had. Eve’s sacrifice had been made. Her final act had torn through the silence, giving the universe one last chance to breathe again. Yet what remained was a wasteland of lost souls, forgotten planets, and dark space that had never truly existed. The Mist stretched endlessly, reaching to the very edge of time itself. No spirits stirred. No humanity remained. The stars were dead trapped forever within the suffocating fog of eternity. Then, something changed. Cracks began to split through the fabric of reality, thin lines of light piercing the darkness. The Mist caught fire. At first, it was only sparked tiny flickers of gold against the grey but as time passed, the flames grew, spreading across the universe like a storm reborn. The cracks reached the heavens. The heavens returned. God looked down upon His creation broken, lifeless, and silent. Sorrow filled His heart. The sparks that fell from His hands were not ordinary flames; they were the Sparks of Creation, the light of Heaven itself. They carried hope, the promise of renewal. As the Mist burned, it began to fold inward, collapsing toward the heart of the storm. Then, in a single, blinding instant, it exploded casting out a thousand fragments of rock, dust, and ashes out of the void. They were not yet worlds, not yet alive but they were the beginning. The dawn of a new age had come. As the fragments soared through the dead universe, something extraordinary began to happen. The scattered rocks and dust started to gather, drawn together by an unseen force. In mere seconds minutes at most the emptiness began to stir.

The debris spun in endless cycles, faster and faster, as if pulled by the hand of a god. The motion was powerful, graceful, and filled with purpose. The dead universe, once silent and still, now trembled with energy.

It felt like magic pure, divine magic. The remnants of destruction were becoming the seeds of creation. The void that had once consumed all life now began to glow faintly, as if remembering what it meant to exist.

The universe was rebuilding itself, piece by piece, under the watchful eyes of the heavens.

As the universe began to rebuild itself, the fragments of rock collided and fused together, shaping the birth of new worlds. One by one, the pieces of creation found their place, forming the planets of a new solar system. The process was swift and powerful like the universe itself was racing against time, desperate to live again.

The dead sun, once cold and silent, began to stir. Deep within its heart, a spark ignited a spark born from divine magic. Flames burst forth, swirling and roaring with life, painting the darkness in gold and crimson.

And for the first time in God’s history, there was light.

The heavens shone once more, and the universe breathed again. The age of darkness had ended. The dawn of creation had begun.