Chapter Text
In the dawn before kingdom, before sword or flame,
The world was divided, yet none bore a name.
Not by conquest, nor banners, nor bloodshed or fire
But silence that slumbered, both cruel and entire.
Above, the Heavens in starlight did gleam,
With palaces built from the threads of a dream.
Where gods walked in stillness and riddles were law,
Their hearts wrapped in silence, unmarred by flaw.
Below, the Mortals danced wild with breath,
With love and with loss, with battle and death.
They wept and they wandered, they built and they bled,
Their songs echoing paths that the gods never tread.
And between them Yōmakai, dark as a tomb,
Where monsters were born in the shadowed gloom.
Where rot became spirit, and spirit took form,
Where death had a voice, and the beasts had a swarm.
The gods are not born they are chosen, not made,
By sacrifice burning, by vow never swayed.
From farmer or maiden, from warrior or king,
They rise through an act that can shatter the string.
The Heavenly Principal—silent, unseen
Calls them to light through a moment so clean
It echoes through stars, through silence and sound,
And leaves only ash where the mortal was found.
Their names are unspoken. Their pasts left behind.
Their memories scattered like threads in the wind.
They forget those they cherished, forget why they ache.
For love is a sin not even gods dare to wake.
To feel is forbidden. To weep is to fall.
To remember the heart is to shatter the wall.
Takamagahara, realm of the wise,
Is built not on truth, but on well-crafted lies.
The balance is fragile. The heavens hold fear.
Even gods keep secrets when Judgment draws near.
So begins not a tale of brave mortal swords.
But of whispers and longing, of unspoken chords.
Of gods who were men, of men who still grieve...
And of one who refused
…to forget, to believe