The River Elurai flowed softly between realms, carrying the glow of the scattered Soulseeds like drifting lanterns across the cosmos.
From the silence of Eidryn, Luke watched them move—bright, unfinished sparks of potential, born not from command but from the delicate tension between purpose and freedom.
Each Soulseed drifted without form, without face, but not without destiny.
Because destiny, now, was no longer singular.
It had split—like light through a prism—into six great aspects.
And the multiverse would never be the same.
The Pattern Beneath Flame
Luke stood before the Heartflame, deep within the Soulforge.
This was where he had first ignited Aion's spirit, where Velkarion's breath had found voice, where twin lights had danced into Liora and Kael. But now, the flame was not for gods.
Now, it would shape the seed of mortality.
He reached toward the drifting embers of the original Soulseed, still fragmenting into strands of identity. Each fragment trembled with choice, yet lacked direction.
If they are to grow, Luke thought, they must first possess identity. Not fate… but leaning.
And so, he breathed upon the flames.
And from his breath, six currents spun outward like petals of a celestial flower.
1. Will – The Flame that Chooses
The first current ignited in bright gold—steady, searing, unyielding.
This soul-type carried the strength to choose, even in the face of ruin. It defied inertia, defied obedience, and lived by self-declaration.
Luke whispered, "Let this be the core of action. The soul of resistance."
Aion arrived silently, drawn by the heat.
"This is power," he said. "But it can burn too hot."
Luke nodded. "Which is why it must be rare. Will is a sword. Not all hands should hold it."
Aion placed a scale of Balance into the stream.
The golden current absorbed it, not diluted—but anchored.
These would be the souls of heroes, of leaders, of those who shape history through stubborn flame.
2. Harmony – The Breath that Binds
The second current rose in shades of teal and rose, calm and warm, humming with the gentle tone of unity.
It was not soft, but resonant—a soul that sought to heal rifts, to join differences without erasure, to nurture without submission.
Liora arrived, descending in a burst of fragrant wind and color.
"Oh," she whispered, as the soul-current twined through her fingers. "This is the breath I could never name."
Luke smiled. "It is the soul that understands others by feeling them."
She wept once—silently—and dropped a tear into the stream.
It bloomed into a thousand harmonics, singing peace across realms.
These souls would one day form the keepers of compassion, the menders of body, heart, and world.
3. Instinct – The Pulse that Survives
The third current surged like a river of lava, wind, stone, and lightning—raw, visceral, primal.
This was the soul of action without thought, of reaction, of hunger, thrill, and movement. It lived in the moment, not for planning or peace, but for existence.
Velkarion landed hard beside the flame, lightning crackling across his scaled wings.
"Now this," he grinned, "feels right."
Luke nodded. "It is survival. Power. The rush of life unfiltered."
Velkarion dropped one of his fangs into the current.
The pulse roared in answer, and from it, motes erupted in wild motion.
These souls would one day birth warriors, hunters, and wanderers—unbound and unstoppable.
4. Reflection – The Mirror that Remembers
The fourth current emerged not in light, but in depth—shimmering obsidian and soft blue, layered like the folds of a quiet thought.
This was the soul of memory, of doubt, of introspection and regret. It did not seek power or peace—it sought truth.
Kael emerged from the Veil like smoke woven into fabric.
"This one will suffer," he said, voice low.
"Yes," Luke replied. "But it will also understand."
Kael reached into his own chest and withdrew a seed of voidlight—a piece of finality—and offered it.
The current drank it with gratitude.
These souls would one day become poets, judges, scholars, and mourners—those who carried the burden of memory.
5. Curiosity – The Spark that Seeks
The fifth current shimmered in twisting colors—copper, violet, pale green—forever shifting, never still.
This was the soul of questions. It did not obey; it investigated. It pulled back the veil, pried at the edge, and whispered, what if?
Chronis appeared not from above, but from a fold in space itself.
He did not speak.
Instead, he took the spiral loop from around his wrist—a construct of timelines yet unwritten—and dropped it into the stream.
The current fractured into a thousand directions… and began forming patterns that no one else could see.
Luke murmured, "They will break boundaries. And perhaps, one day, me."
These would be the inventors, philosophers, dreamwalkers, and madmen—the ones who shape the unknown.
6. Shadow – The Veil that Defies
The sixth current came not in fire or sound.
It came as a pause. A shiver. A question no one asked.
It was subtle, coiled, potent.
A soul that hid, resisted, doubted, and watched. Neither evil nor good—but inclined to resist judgment, to bend laws, to find paths no one granted.
Luke stared at it, unsure.
It had no divine sponsor.
He had not shaped it.
And yet… it had formed anyway.
Kael approached, slowly.
"…This is not mine," he said, "but it came from the same silence."
Luke nodded.
"It came from what we chose not to create."
They left it untouched.
These would become the outsiders, the rogues, the truth-bearers in shadow, and perhaps… the first to fall.
Or to rise beyond gods.
The First Division
The six currents rose and braided, then fractured again.
Each Soulseed, as it floated down Elurai, drew from one—or sometimes two—of the soul-currents.
Luke watched them form: different shapes, patterns, a hundred thousand variations.
He saw mortals who would love and rage.
He saw some who would destroy themselves for the sake of others.
He saw others who would defy fate and build their own.
They are not gods, Luke thought. But they are something we are not.
They are unfinished.
And in that, they were beautiful.
The Council of Division
Later, in the Skyforge atop Eidryn, the gods met.
Aion stood with arms crossed.
"These soul-types will divide them. There will be war. Conflict."
Velkarion grinned. "Good. Without struggle, there is no growth."
Liora shook her head. "There will be pain. Grief. Misunderstanding."
Kael was silent.
Chronis traced lines in the air, watching time ripple.
Luke raised a hand.
"They must be divided."
"But why?" Liora cried. "Why not grant all six to every soul? Why limit them?"
Luke's voice was steady.
"Because the soul's strength is not in having everything. It is in seeking what it lacks."
They fell silent.
Even Aion could not answer that.
The First Mortal Soon
Far below, in the Realm of Titans, the first Soulbound form began to emerge.
Not yet a race, not yet a world—but a fusion of spark and clay.
It took breath, coughed once, and opened eyes not knowing who it was.
It did not speak.
But it felt.
And that feeling was more precious than any throne.
Elsewhere…
In the black beyond time, Eryxis stirred.
It had felt the sixfold split.
It had seen the current of Shadow.
And it had smiled.
"Now you make choice real," the dream-thing whispered.
"Now you make flaws divine."
A sliver of non-being reached toward the River Elurai.
Not to destroy.
Not yet.
But to touch.
And a single Soulseed, drifting gently in the stream… trembled.