Hadonin, Fall of Chaos
Long before there were heaven and hell, earth and space, there was a world like none other. Sand blast rings of summer, golden white and free, each tiny particle glittering brilliantly. Like rings of ice or diamond in the sun, but alive and breathing. They danced round the eternal star Eswyn, taking her light and shining it out into the darkness, seven of them in chorus, harmony, and discourse; for even paradise gets dizzy. Eswyn burned for tens of trillions of years, a beacon to her children caught in the abyss. She shone through them like sun through stained glass, flashing first one hue and then the next, in an endless night. Her children, a hundred stars of all shapes and sizes, bounced around the universe at a million miles an hour, dancing and twirling and singing together. Each was meant to be, and from deep within them came the rawest emotions of all kinds. They were still so small, while the universe around them was so large and void of all life. It stretched them thin, strung them out, for they were not like you or me. Bodies, planets, capsules for souls, they hadn’t been created yet. These things bumped and jostled each other, melting into each other and shifting apart. They had no boundaries, they had no need.
The smallest of the stars was named Hadonin. She was flighty and loud, and made of the deepest blue. She was her mothers Ironic Statement, for she was the only one with the ability to comprehend the truth in others, but she was the color of sadness and despair. Maybe Eswyn knew of this burden her daughter carried, the need to help and soothe and listen. Hadonin had such refined emotions that one day when the new stars came, steady and bright and gorgeous, she was allowed to stand with them. Her brothers and sisters were banished and tied, their chaotic wild nature a thing of the past. Eswyn bound them to six of the seven rings of chaos, each in the care of one of her most trusted spawn, the seven gods and goddesses. The last ring remained untouched and free to spin out belts and ribbons of color, belonging to Hadonin her self. In the end, when all else died, the light would bring her home. Until then, Hadonin would be the last of the chaos loose in the universe, a beacon of truth in the night sky above.
Now Hadonin bound herself in her own body, to look like those stars around her. Her endless reaching consciousness could no longer run rampant. The universe was no longer empty, and Eswyn had given her express orders to respect the lives around her. So Hadonin hung in the sky, higher than all the other stars, out in the distance where the others couldn’t go. She was too bright, too much to be near them, like a swan trying to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Some of the other stars hated her for it, for being out there where they couldn’t go, for her lack of boundaries or care for the ones around her. She didn’t understand them. She had never needed to care, because caring was like breathing, it just happened when it needed to. Now it was something they expected of you, if was a chain of iron against a ghost of her past.
Slowly the world below faded. It grew dirty and ignorant. The lush raw beauty was cut out and replaced with replica upon replica of wrong. She saw the stars beneath her quiver, falter. They began to fade, suffocate, in the pollution of the new world order. Hadonin dove down, pushing it away. Even the stars she couldn’t see or hear or feel were her friends. No matter their world or beliefs they deserved to be saved. She rushed through them, pulling them up towards the clean air where they could breath. They came with her, one by one, but they could only go so far. Billions loomed out below, and each one would need to be coaxed out of the ink, up towards the light of magical infinity. It would take a million lifetimes that she didn’t have. Suddenly another single star came into view, higher than the rest. She stood out from then by an impossible margin, far enough to almost be free. Hadonin fought back the chaos that threatened to break her body. This star was hope, the only other who could do what she did, but she still had so far she could rise. Hadonin could see the brilliance locked inside of her, chained away as hers was. She had found other stars like this, but they’d only been able to muster up strength for a short while, and then they fell back down.
Hadonin circled the star. They laughed and chatted and played. Slowly they rose up together, higher and higher. Hadonin told her the truth that under her skin was the last of the chaos. Then the other star stopped, hanging higher than any other. She didn’t want to leave the others behind; she didn’t want to go any higher. Hadonin flared with rage. Didn’t this star understand how much she wanted a partner? Didn’t she understand that they needed to show all these others just what magic and hope and truth looked like? Didn’t she understand that, through her own chaotic mess, Hadonin couldn’t even feel outside herself? This star claimed she loved her, but she felt no difference. They were no closer than they had ever been. Hadonin couldn’t feel her stars love when she was so far away, but if she came any closer the chaos of the ancients would burn her away. Hadonin turned that rage into hate, hate that she could use to rocket back into the abyss that still lingered on the outskirts. She told her star that she didn’t need her anymore. She told her that chaos couldn’t except things like friendship or love. Bitterly she cast off into the darkness, lighting the way with her distress.
She did it too fast, too soon. After so long of darting helplessly from star to star, she had run out of love, hope, and truth. She felt so empty, and there was nothing she could do. She realized that only her love and devotion to her star had kept her in the sky. Without her, there was nothing left to fight for. If she couldn’t bring the light to those so close already, simply because they didn’t want it or need it, what was the use to try at all. On the outskirts of night, Hadonin looked up into the abyss and realized she couldn’t find her light. Her way home had suddenly disappeared, and in the never ending trails of the universe, she would never be able to find it again. Hadonin closed her eyes as her light slowly faded, and black as night she began to fall. There was no reason to bring them up any longer, if even she could not keep away from the tendrils of normalcy.
A flash above her made her open her eyes. A shooting star blazed past her, one of the ones she had helped. Even after all these years, the star had continued to shine and work higher and higher. It gave her a glimmer of hope that even without her attention, her lessons and hope stayed with them. It opened her eyes to the possibility that others were out there, helping each other out of the ink, climbing through the stratosphere towards her, guided by nothing but herself, hanging so high in the sky. It was enough to spark a fire within her, and she blazed deep blue again. She zipped along with the shooting star until the star stopped higher than she’d ever expected. Hadonin raced away, with shouts backwards to her shooting star in thanks for all she’d done.
Hadonin raced here and there, searching for her shining star. She finally found her, lower than ever before. As she approached she faltered. Why did she still need her star? She didn’t depend on her any longer, her light had been rekindled by the world around her. This star had hurt her; she didn’t want her back. Deep in her something pushed back. This star was her best friend, and in times of despair, her only friend. Hadonin approached slowly, but her star turned away, hurt beyond anything Hadonin was capable of feeling. It broke her heart, to see what she had done. Slowly, not even falling, she drifted lower until she couldn’t even light her own way out of the icky sludge surrounding her. There she stayed, waiting for her star to forgive her. Above, the star healed and rose high into the sky. She never looked back for Hadonin, not once, and took her place as the highest of all the stars.
And with that, the last of the chaos faded from the sky.