Formless, featureless, ineffable, and other meaningless words could be described of this one single being. A being of consent twisting change, unable to find something that would make her hollow mind sated with the hungry inquiring of answers. Thousands among thousands of demands echoed in her mind but she had no mouth to scream out her questions. No tongue to sharply demand the secrets of who was watching, if there was even one to question. Yet while her knees laid bare against the black sand, they glanced towards the ever changing fog of darkness and watched the fog take form.

	Heartlessly the fog commanded her attention, as cries of tortured shadows enveloped her, each one bearing arms against the other. Black ichor splattered across the sand while the shadows continued to rise and fall, like a countless horde of undying beings. They wanted to look away from the shadows, even new in this world, they knew they hated watching the countless beings that continued her dreadful descent onto the black shore until they became nothing. The shadows of the fog offered no harm nor comfort, yet it didn’t matter as the watchful newborn witnessed the fall of many more nameless shadows that tore at her heart.

	Slowly the shadows that mimicked a more humanoid form warping into something slimier, like they were no longer controlling her bodies. Each one of the humanoid fog, warped into tools that were similar but yet so different. Some were sharper, wielding both precision and elegance as if it was honor, then there were others, others that wielded cruelty and strength, crushing anything to hold what was kept from them. These fog warped tools slowly surround the newborn until each one faded into complete nothingness. Until someone stands before her.

	Sharp and tattered draconic wings that were wide enough to consume the whole sky in one sinister bite. Razor-sharp claws, clenching one of the crueler tools that the fog offered. Wearing nothing but shadow touched flesh with countless markings being her armor. Yet in the shadowed creature’s eyes was something that demanded everything and nothing at the same time. A state of constant hunger like a flame spreading its control if everything the fire touches becomes ash. The creature roared in her mind, a ferocity that almost made the newborn shiver in natural born fear. Was this what the fog was offering? Or promised what will become of them? A creature never stated until everything was ash. 

	No… No. This had to be what the shadows were warning the newborn. It had to be. To be the destruction of nothingness, to keep the world as it is without the promise of new color. The promise of new mountains, new forest, new cities, and whatever the other newborns would create. They will refuse this creature with her dying breath to her newfound life. This was her promise to the fog. Silently she stumbled to rise up, her ever changing form slowly found harmony within one another and began to weave into a new understanding.

	Six angelic wings stained with crimson red began to protrude from her back, a more feminine shape molded the bases of her body with light flowing into each limb. Yet that light was quickly covered in a coat of dark metallic crystals similar to the sand that she stood on, as it became her armor, wielding both elegance and vigor in one simple shape. Yet the light will always be shone by her hair that flowed like silver wine. Lastly her eyes flicker like the stars above her, in remembrance of the stars that burned bright for only just a moment. 

	For a moment her gaze lingered on herself, verifying any last details she might have to make while her mouth twisted and turned as if she were trying to form words in her mouth. Until her gaze sharply peered into the fog, still witnessing the different tools that offered themselves before her. Her hand extended forward towards the fleeting fog as she whispered her choice.

	“Trident.” She spoke, finally she spoke. Words that felt strange to form now felt like second nature. From the shadows, from the very weave of creations she pulled away while her talon-like hands gripped a tool that was slender with ever twisting darkness and light flowing in and out. Three prongs ringing out like a metal choir in silent worship. A weapon chosen and crafted, for the goddess of war.

	The tool felt strange in her hand, a weight she hadn’t accounted for. The first thing she thought of, the first thing she created was something for herself. She glanced towards the other newborns watching them to see if they chose a form to linger with. Though she knew a part of herself knew that they had to learn like she did. Either with the guidance of the fog, or the silence of the black shore.

	She glanced towards the lifeless world around her with uncertainty, there had to be something to explain why they are here. Why were they created, if they were even created. A question that could not be stated with purpose. She slowly walked in front of the other newborns as she gripped her trident tighter. 

	“I am going to see if it’s truly just us in this canvas.” She declared not with a booming voice but rather a tender one. Despite the crudeness that lingered on her tongue. “Join if you care, it matters little to me.” She turned away from the group, mainly to fix the awkward weight of her tongue. Still finding it strange to say something rather than think it. Though she lingered towards the right, offering the idea of traveling together to the structure to see if there was really something lingering in the distance.