The First One

When Machevaine created the world and all that was held in it’s dusty bosom, it allowed a seed of evil to become planted in the belly of the First One. The First One was a being raised up from the mud of the earth, rained down from the clouds of the sky, and given life to by his lover, the Queen of Foxes. As Machevaine watched him grow, it marveled at his beauty, and at his gruesome callousness. The being was so full of evil, all creatures wilted at his gaze, all but Machevaine and the foxes he ran with, for he loved them. Yet it was very apparent he was no fox, or any other known animal of which Machevaine had given form to. He was a cancer, a formless slick of tanned mud.

One day, as Machevaine sat with the First One on a butte under the flaming glory of the tenth sunset this world had seen, it asked the being what he was, for it was curious as to how he had formed.

“I am of the seeds of this expanse, my old friend. While you have created all that we see, I was created by all that we see. Have you not noticed the winds of change blow at my back, brother? I love you, but as I am with all life, I can bring you only sadness and death, flee my side, my friend, before my nature kills you as well.” The being sighed as he closed his lips, riddles were his only language, and Machevaine was terribly confused.

“Strangely, I understand you not, child of the earth’s bosom. Were I your creator, all would be plain, but you are as elusive as immortality. Perhaps in time I will see what you say, and then all will be clear.”

The First One sighed, and leaned over to Machevaine’s ear.

“I will put it plainly. I bring the new way, and you cannot last there.” The First One whispered in slithery tones.

Machevaine’s eyes grew wide, it leapt up from it’s perch beside the First One and flew towards the sun on golden wings of flame. A transformation like that could kill Machevaine, but the wings were necessary. It left the ball of spinning dirt created by it’s genius, knowing well what could happen if it stayed. New ways could kill the old, and it was old, very old. And once again, it was cold, and alone.