The Story of Vallen

Before the Universe, before the Stars and Planets, there was one who had always been there,

A being cursed with loneliness and infinite power,

Imprisoned within this endless void,

Unaware even of who had locked him away,

This wretched being was so alone and filled with sorrow that,

His pain bent the void, his grief molded it, and his wisdom shaped it,

Until the works of art he created became so beautiful and captivating that,

Simply seeing just one of them,

Could grant a human a lifetime of joy.

Chapter I: Light Born from Nothingness

To suppress his anguish, the Cursed One worked without rest,

As he worked, he grew skilled; as he grew skilled, his creations grew more beautiful,

Until at last, he immersed himself with fervor in crafting his masterpiece,

First, he forged a sea from nothingness, in the heart of the void,

And placed upon it his most exquisite creation: light,

Light born from nothingness,

Yet blazing defiantly against the darkness of the void,

Then he laid down earth, barren as the void itself,

Hard and cold, yet from within it would emerge delicate and elegant works of art,

Then he added water, to prevent his creations from perishing,

Then he kindled fire within the sea, so its miracle might be seen,

Finally, he breathed in air, to unite with fire and bring forth life.

At last, the Cursed One completed his work,

In all its splendor and grandeur,

But as time passed, everything grew meaningless,

And he asked himself:

Why did I create these things?

If no one would see them,

What purpose was there in mounting an exhibition?

If no one could perceive their beauty,

What meaning was there in infinite genius?

Then the Cursed One returned to nothingness,

This time creating the Soul,

From water and fire,

From earth and air,

From light and nothingness,

And with this soul, he created all animals,

So they might behold his works,

And honor them,

They ate his creations, they drank from them,

They looked but did not see,

They heard but did not listen,

They touched but did not feel.

The Cursed One realized something was missing,

So he created consciousness,

From soul and light,

And thus were born his infinite watchers,

They observed the Cursed One,

His endless creation,

His power and wisdom,

They honored him,

Praised him and exalted him.

Yet again, the Cursed One sensed something was lacking,

He was praised, but not understood,

He was exalted, but not heard,

He spoke, but received no answer,

At last, the Cursed One created will,

From soul, from light, and from his own essence,

And so humanity was born,

Amidst his most beautiful works of art.

Humanity looked and saw,

Touched and felt,

Hear and listened,

Understood and spoke,

At last, the Cursed One had found,

The most perfect audience for himself,

He had broken his curse,

From the nothingness bestowed upon him,

By creating light, soul, and will.

Chapter II: The Weary God

Humanity was the Cursed One’s most beautiful creation,

Yet it was also ungrateful,

Arrogant and demanding,

Still, the Cursed One did not wish to destroy it,

His sole audience, with his wrath,

Yet humanity was not merely evil,

Some were loyal,

Some compassionate,

Some learned, some courageous,

The Cursed One granted them what they desired,

When they longed for light, he created the sun,

To ease their fear of night,

He made the moon a lantern for them,

He adorned the earth with its finest fruits,

He clothed the heavens with his works of art.

Humanity called him God at last,

And gave him a name of their own choosing,

They named the Cursed One Partammanus,

Which meant “Mighty Solitude”

In the tongues of mortals,

The Cursed One loved this name,

For he had never had one before,

He had always called himself the Cursed One,

Now he was no longer cursed,

By virtue of his creations.

Then millennia passed,

Humanity multiplied, expanded, and grew wise,

Yet always they desired more,

From their artist,

But Partammanus was weary now,

His strength had faded, his mind had weakened,

Before his end, he entrusted his soul to four of his greatest creations,

So that his legacy might endure,

That his works might continue without their artist,

As sheep must not be left without a shepherd,

Thus Modun was born of fire and water,

With the spirit of life,

Vallen was born of the light of infinite wisdom,

Lorax came next,

Embodiment of rule and will,

Finally, Phlya was born,

Carrying the power of compassion in living form.

Chapter III: The Sage and Humanity

The light of wisdom, piercing through darkness,

Dispelling clouds of ignorance, offering solace to death,

The exalted Vallen was born on the island where the gods were born,

At the foot of the highest mountain, Hypos,

A village woman found him,

A noble-hearted woman who brought healing to humanity,

She took him in her arms, looked upon his face, and thought,

What an omen! A girl child for the healers!

She then took him home and raised him alongside her own daughter, without distinction,

Thus did a god meet a human,

And thus was the fate of an entire world changed,

When Vallen witnessed death pursuing humanity,

He became a sage.

When he turned ten, two friends,

Ran and played together among the fields with animals,

Became inseparable companions,

Promised each other beneath the moonlight;

We will be together forever,

We will never turn our backs on each other,

In life and in death!

His friend’s name was Ilya,

The beginning of his endless sorrow,

His poor mortal friend!

When they turned twenty,

His hands had become healing,

Yet Vallen was filled with miracles,

The light of wisdom had begun to shine,

He was wiser than the wisest,

The greatest of all healers.

But he never left Ilya,

The friend bound to him by an eternal vow,

Together they climbed cherry trees,

Ruled empires in their dreams,

Commanded armies born of illusion,

Together they shared endless joy.

Then when they turned thirty,

Vallen realized the painful truth of the healer:

The daughter of the Moon did not age,

They journeyed to Mount Hypos,

To ask the wise Yera,

To learn Vallen’s fate.

Up the slopes of Mount Hypos went Ilya and Vallen,

To seek the exalted sage.

They prayed to the Moon and the Sun,

For seven days and seven nights,

At last the sage came to them,

And spoke thus to the two unfortunate friends:

The daughter of the Moon, the exalted goddess of wisdom,

Has decreed that your mortal friend is not separate from your destiny.

After a hundred years on earth,

You will return to your home, among the gods.

Vallen wept for days,

His tears flowed into Lake Lykos,

Ilya comforted his friend and said to him:

I will live forever within your heart,

The one who has a friend never truly dies!

Vallen refused to accept his fate,

He crossed cities and nations,

Searched every book for the secret of immortality,

To save his friend,

The Ilya bound to him by an eternal oath.

For thirty years he ran in pursuit of immortality,

Learned infinite knowledge,

Became the wisest of the wise,

Even wiser than the exalted sage.

Yet he found no cure for death,

And returned helplessly to his friend’s side.

Ilya smiled when he saw Vallen,

Now an old woman, her hands still healing,

Her heart still radiating love,

They went once more to the cherry tree,

Now Vallen understood,

The death awaiting all humanity,

Was at his friend’s side.

Ilya laid him in her arms,

Caressed his head and comforted him once more:

I will live forever within your heart,

The one who has a friend never truly dies!

Then her hands grew still,

She breathed in the scent of cherry blossoms for the last time,

Vallen buried his friend beneath the cherry tree,

Waited for days at the graveside,

The wisest being on earth,

Could do nothing but weep before death.

After that day, they say:

Vallen never laughed again,

Did not return to the side of the gods,

Until he met the child of fire and water!

And they say again:

On a winter day when the moonlight struck the earth,

And the winds blew fiercely,

You can see Wise Vallen,

Holding a basket of cherries,

Laughing beside his friend’s grave.