Ribbons: A Love Story

[NacreCicatrix]

n the beginning, there were two.
Through a yawning void they drifted, their forms little more than motes of light.
Then, in the way that a sparrow chooses her nest, so too did they choose a place. Here
they roiled in torpor and dreamed. With each iota of imagining, a star winked into being,
a story held within its heart. The very essence of destiny.
          The stellar nursery grew into a glimmering, blinding field. Endless possibilities hung
in the hollow. The creators woke, and wondered. They were named Wydan the Sage, and
Ayor the Maker. Wydan chose what would be, and Ayor made it so, shaping form and matter
within the hollow. Planets were sculpted. The sun, the moon. Radiant constellations were
strung together that, someday, mankind would name. Then came earth, and air, and water,
and life. Once their world was made, the creators retreated.

         When its time came, a star would spill its lifeblood, planting the seeds of fate within
the world of mortals. Great goodness and dire evil. Bonds, schisms, victories, defeats, and
love. Yet, at times, its matter may become split, scattered, and lost as it falls: pulled by
storms in the sky beyond our own, and carried away to distant lands. Other worlds.
          Two souls may be inexorably bound to one another by these traces of destiny, no
matter the distance between them. Once they are branded by this mark, the breadth of the
cosmos shall be no bar to their meeting. They will come about again, a thousand times,
throughout ages. Each time, wearing a different form. Soldiers and priests. Islanders and
mountain folk. Men, women, and everything between and without. No matter the shape
their lives take, they will always be drawn to search for the other half of their destiny.

This is the story of two fated souls, and their first meeting.