There was once a archer.

And nothing else.

The archer was alone in nothingness, all around the archer null and void. endless nonexistence. The archer itself was yet to be even.

in what cannot be measured by moments, in this time that cannot be explained by the one who is telling this story, nor understood by everyone but a few. The archer moved itself from nowhere to another nowhere, and these movements were the first things to be, these movements are still happening and we see them around, as they manifest as a force, this force drives the magic all over the creation. The movements of the archer were like the ones of a dancer, executing a exquisite beautiful set of moves. Each one intricate, timed, specific, synchronized and swift, they were large and wide, the archer danced beautifully.

It then, pulled the bow, picked up a arrow, and still dancing, with its own eyes shut, placed the arrow nook in the string, lifted one of the legs, lifted its head in a way the nose was pointing up its shoulder, pulled the string gracefully, it did a pirouette and let the arrow fly. It flew and reached a distance and then created a cloud of golden and green glowing dust, that spread fast over the head of the archer.

it then, pirouetted again, pulled another arrow, placed the nook in the string and pulled the string strongly. stomped the void with one of its foot and a platform of grey was created, like stones and coal and sand and dirt and salt. It let the arrow fly and it did so swift that a white whirlwind was created as a track. the arrow vanished in the void but left behind a white track to the edges that forever grow.

the archer then tilted its head to what was his other shoulder and crossed the legs, slowly pulled another arrow, made the nook meet the string when both were upon its head, as it placed the bow in front of its face it pulled the string with the nook gracefully, it drawn the first breath in, then in the very moment it let the breath out, let the arrow fly. the arrow flew hit the void, and it bleed. the blue blood from the void poured endlessly and its said it still bleeds to this day.

the archer keep its dance, shoot the arrows to every direction, and as it shot things were created.

from shooting in a arc, the arrow hit the void, were the platform of stones was now, the fissure opened made red pour out high, and this red few upon the platform creating more stones and fire. mountains and all its cousins were born from that arrow and red blood from the ground.

another shot was fired upwards and upon passing by the glowing dust there was color, that changed from blue to black with a majestic hue of tones in between, once the arrow hit a certain height, it exploded, the center of this explosion is now the golden light that shines upon us and feed us with the energy of that time, it is the sun. from the sparkles, were born the stars, that can and could only be seen when the sky turned dark.

at the end of its dance, the archer struck a golden arrow in its own chest. It fell on the ground and from its flesh, bones and blood, all types of creatures came. At that time, each creature was not what it is today, as the creation is never done, even after the archer’s death. Upon creating death, it unleashed life, by finishing its dance The creator bounded us in the circle of life. It died, but it did not. as we are it, and it is us. But, the creator did never saw its own creation, as it never opened its own eyes.