UNSPOKEN

In the far beyond, where names do not reach and maps hold no meaning, entities were born that did not know why they existed, how they began, or for what purpose they had been cast into existence. They were brothers and sisters, yet they were not human, nor fully divine-something in between; a consciousness exposed to terror from the very moment of birth.
Some chose to leave their mark through destruction, erasing planets as easily as candles are extinguished. Others chose to grant prosperity, as if creation still carried remnants of mercy within it. But Kolmekh was neither of those, nor among the latter. He went beyond the desire to destroy, and beyond the desire to give. He wanted to understand.
Kolmekh traveled to another world, stole groups of highly intelligent humans, and wove from them an entire civilization. From the outside, it resembled a miracle. From within, it groaned. His obsession was singular: God. Not to worship, but to explain. Not to be saved, but to uncover the first cause-the hand that brought him into existence, and the reason pain was woven into everything.
For that, he made his people live in unending suffering. He did not impose pain by force alone, but planted it within thought itself-within suggestion, within awareness. Flowers connected the minds of children to him, opening unseen pathways between them and Kolmekh. And so, he felt every mind, every pulse, every fracture. He believed that God must see in the same way, that true understanding of creation required experiencing all that was created.
Thousands of years passed.
Those entities lived within every mind, seeped into every pain, until nothing remained of the world but its fading reflection. And yet, despite everything, one human remained who had not fully merged into this fate.
His name was Yolhen.
Yolhen lived among the last remnants of this diseased world, within a civilization where faces were hidden, because their religion declared that only the eyes deserved to be seen. Everythi