Darkness.
When ardin was born into the world, an abrupt occurrence that not even the most educated of the Royal Scholars could have forseen, the only force that prevailed on that sudden, stormy night... was darkness.
Perhaps it was nothing special, perhaps all babes were initially born blind, engulfed by a void of screaming tranquility that consoled them to sleep.
The darkness was welcoming at first, his frail, tiny frame seemed to enjoyed it. He didn't know why, all he knew was that he must have liked it.
He must have liked the feeling of the soft tendrils of pitch smoke, wrapping themselves around his chubby little arms, softly caressing his fragile head. He must have liked the weight of the midnight air on the flutter of his dark lashes; his first real blink. He must have liked the crisp, soothing whistle of the westerly winds that weaved through his ears. He must have enjoyed the sea salt on his tongue, carried by a blanket of wafting leaves, spreading the bitter-sweet taste of the deep abyss across the small room where his mother wept tears of joy, tears of joy that fell from her porcelain cheeks onto Ardin's fresh, blossoming own.
He wondered if her tears tasted like the sea, they were salty, after all, but he could not distinguish between the two flavours in all his innocence. Not until the age of three when he learnt to swim.
There and then, he knew. The tears that his mother had cried had been born of the sea. And the darkness he felt was born of the wind, waltzing together in a dance of omnipotence.
He was infinite.
Until he met Resus.
