THE FOUR WHO BREATHE THE WORLD
Before the first dawn, the elements were not yet things but beings. They knelt in the emptiness, facing one another — waiting to begin.
Air was the whisper between them, the breath that carried intent. Fire was the first to move — his tongue a blade of light. Water leaned toward him — her mouth open, ready to extinguish or be ignited. Their meeting was not peace, but creation.
Between their clash, worlds boiled into form. Earth rose beneath them, silent and vast, to hold what could not remain vapor. She became the stage — the vessel for their endless union and separation.
Even now, every storm repeats that first dialogue: Air persuading Fire, Fire chasing Water, Water embracing Earth, and Earth remembering the heat that made her fertile.