Once, before the sun shone and the land rose to meet it, before the empty breath of time exhaled its first gust and ended the reign of immortal children, before the new colors gave their luster to the first generation, before kigestra* were a dream unto the intellect of the creator, when the creator still slept in his cacoon of silent labor, promising to give birth to himself through flesh, before the first voice could deny itself and before kigestra could look back to see before, before all of this, the waters of old Retuo rose to swallow the sky. An unspeakable darkness had grown in the belly of the sea, its presence controlling and contorting all points below the heavens. The darkness was in essence the shadow of life that stood witnessing its own creation in the light of the creator. Just as a good man casts a squirming shadow uncontrolled beneath his pious stride, so did the eternal in creating substance. The black lived within the water, like an omniscient cancer, refusing the prospect of life on land, allowing only its own imagined offspring to flourish within the chaos of its bellows.
No land could see the fruition of it's rightful inhabitants. All the scarce pockets of earth that did exist above the malevolent meniscus were bare and lonely. The soil itself cried with the heavens, and the organic sadness of this terrestrial lament fed the dark that breechd its gateway. The tears of sky and land fertilized the evil that stifled their very growth.
When the harp of creation sounded the birth of a mountain, the vile ocean, like a jealous hag conspiring against a beautiful maiden, would send its poison currents to snuff the rising mass, shattering the mighty stone into mere dust beneath the chalky mandible of its Jokendrekan**. When a seed of life would germinate on the ocean floor, the darkness would consume its desperate stem. In this way, an infinite variety of beings (and continents themselves), all one of a kind and all desperately struggling to exist, were obliterated by the dark water and it's children, existing literally for moments before joining the wet shadow of the creator, the nothingness in the ocean. Evolution was in a state of arrested development, the living embryos of destiny entombed in a fossil of hatred.
The creator slept up on high, as in a coma still aware of his surroundings, forming a body to house his will, to end the incessant drowning of his creatures. This being, wrenched from divine artistry over millenia of dormant energies, would swim through the pit of black and leave light in his wake. Still, the morbid tide cavorted in its formlessness, ignorant to the plan of it's counterpart to eventually restore balance to the plane of Retuo.
The only beacons of life and light in this time of breathless rioting were the Woggeqlpusts, a peculiar sort of being that once rose suddenly from the colorless sands of the ocean floor. They appeared a glowing ball, were completely hollow and could be found having grown anywhere from 1 centimeter in diameter to, in once instance, 1 mile. The special aspect of a Woggeqlpust was that, during the creation of the first one, the sphere was able to withstand the homocidal mutiny of the waters by adapting, in an infinitesimal amount of time, a shield of pure light. Moments after birth, a Woggeqlpust, which is then a small orb of soft cartilidge, ignites this mystery shield in and around itself as a protection against the liquid night. Then, shedding the cartiledge (which was only necessary during birth to dictate its spherical size and shape) it's life is realized and impossibly denied. In essence, floating into the dark void as a speck of light, the Woggeqlpusts were the only hope for existence and beauty within the dimension of pure formless chaos.