|In the beginning there was the King.
Maybe he dreamt himself up, birthed from the first spark, within his own creative consciousness. Maybe something greater breathed him to life. The truth is without a doubt beyond our humble reach and stretches past all philosophical considerations. And it might be better this way.
From a thought he conjured up the Void. From a glance, he made the world. And from a whisper, he created us.
The King long travelled this new world and saw his children, afraid in the darkness of the first days. He ripped out his eyes and threw them into the Void, beyond the circle of the world, so that they could illuminate our lives. From a simple gesture, he initiated the slow rotation of the stars, and could focus on other tasks. We followed his path, always learning, and granting life to our naïve imaginings. Some became important lords, incredible warriors or builders – while others learned to serve, or simply to live.
For his kingdom, the first word came in a whisper. Before knowing what the sky, a mountain or a river was, this word echoed within our souls. From our birth to our last breath, we would serve and protect Hypnos.
Some say that here on Hypnos, not a single being resembles another. There are countless clans, realms, and a few old and dubious bloodlines, but they are as strange as they are short-lived. Our bodies sometimes change at the whim of the kingdom’s shifting, of our emotions, or of some poetic randomness. Only an Hypnosean’s mask remains the same throughout his life, along with his name, if he has one.
The masks are our guardians and protect our essence; they are witnesses to our souls. Their patterns, whether plain or complex, bear witness to our intentions, our personalities, and our ranks. They shelter the inaudible murmurs of our thoughts, which only the whisperers can express with their nebulous voices. Isn’t it so ?
Names, however, are not as common as you would think. To name something means to define its nature, to give an absolute meaning to its existence. Even those who own the Gift of speech do not have such a power, which falls entirely into the hands of the King.
There was Narayâna, the thousand-door palace where his throne stands, the keys of which are forever kept by Choron. There were Durga, Narueh, Siträ and Radamanthe, the four cardinal lords who hold the foundations of the world. The whisperers, Hypnos’ royal guard, of which Yantra is the master. Yem, Rig and Nagä, the guardian rings who meander to the edges of the world. The peaks of Edelweïss, the great forest of Imbolt… The towers of Cordierite and the secrets of Sarkante… Seas, rivers and continents. There were the Three Oracles, who know everything that Was, Is, and Will be. Surrounded be the countless wonders of his creation, we thought we would live and dream forever.
And so the eons flowed by.
And then came the twilight.