Volume Ten
Beyond the Edge of Creation lie the Fields of Perdition — the red realm of Void.
He claims to be a farmer. He lies. His power is too precise, too restrained. It is too great for me to even understand it, let alone decipher it. It rivals that of the Creator Himself.
There are three realms:
The Blue — Creation. Governed by Oris. The universe we know.
The Red — Edge of Creation. A borderland. Void. But I have been there. It is not empty. It is the personification of Voris.
The Green — a metaphor. For I, Moris, am the green realm. I am Death. I run through the veins of the Blue. I seep into the depths of the Red. I am the end of creation and the end of existence. All things that pass from Blue and Red unto me, cease to exist.
Creation is shaped like a disc, twisted into itself:
∞
The universe is Sempiternal. The end is the beginning, and therefore there isn’t any. The symbol represents the Blue. All else — Red. And I? I course through it all.
Today I discovered that the Red is not void. The very fact that I am here means that something exists here, something that was hidden so well that it appeared like void.
Today I met the farmer. He claims to have existed for as long as the Red itself. He has waited for me. I do not believe him. I know lies, and he is their source.
He is the negation of Creation. Hidden from the Blue, as all opposites are. Whatever we could comprehend, is the Blue. What we cannot perceive, we label void. But it is not void. It is something else. Something more. Outside our capacity to experience, like colors that we cannot see or sounds that we cannot hear.
He cannot be Ancient. We are six. We would know a seventh.
And yet…
He feels like us. He acts like us. Every molecule here bends to him.
He is Judge. He is Power. I suspect that makes him a Lord of Judgement.
If the Soul is divided across three realms, then he holds a third. Perhaps more. For the void is infinite. He may surpass even the Creator.
His name is Voris.
The fields are barren wastelands. Not a soul in sight. But there is energy in the air. He is in control.
Being alone here makes him the Realm itself, something like me; perhaps more powerful, for he commands a tangible realm. Every molecule of this place answers to him.