Lord Zee
yoshua171The Lifeblood
Slow.
Too slow.
Intolerably slow.
For the first time in all time there was movement, creation, action. In the vast expanse of all that had or would ever be it was blisteringly fast, nauseating, but also slow. The Lifeblood was creation, and though its fragments did that, and though it itself did that, it was too slow. Time was here, now, things happened, actions finally mattered. Things had to be. They had to be now.
After untold eons of nothingness, what was had finally been born. It could not grow up fast enough. The Lifebloods fragments could not act fast enough. Thankfully, the Lifeblood could. There had been land, and on that land was life, and so the Lifeblood followed suit. Its power sunk into the depths of the world it encompassed, through the great oceans, through the thick rocks, and into the freshly smoldering heart of a world just born.
It pulled. Ferocious magma shattered the crust above it, pushing aside vast slabs of rock that broke through the waves. Oceans formed by the Lifebloods fragments hissed and screamed as an unimaginable amount of liquid rock forced its way up and up until it exploded from the sea and grew vast islands and mountains.
Through it all the world turned, and the Lifeblood did not relent. The heart of the world spilled its blood into the ocean across thousands of miles, displacing rock and forming more besides. Only when the worlds heart began to whimper, sputter from the abuse, did the Lifeblood relent. It regarded its work, the vast fields of cooling magma, cracking and giving way to enormous canyons as they cooled, the broken peaks of continental slabs cast asunder, and it knew its work to be unfinished. It knew it had to create, it had to create faster.
The Lifeblood swept over that new land as a scouring force, shattering the barest fraction surface of its into dust. It had witnessed one of its fragments spread green, life, creation that created. It created no less, accomplished no less. Rising from the newly minted dirt came thousands of trees, shrubs, grasses. Many withered and died, unable to thrive or even survive the incredible heat that still permeated the land, but more still took hold in the shaded regions and on the cool and humid coasts.
It was a seed that would grow. The Lifeblood cared little for what perished, only for what survived. It surveyed the forest's of the coasts, and it seeded them with other life. Moss and vines climbed the trees, and at their tops came creatures which the Lifeblood had made before. Birds, as varied and countless as the Lifebloods past failures, the stars. Red, blue, green, black, they took on every colour and every shape which could be imagined.
They would not be alone, either. The Lifeblood saw the emptiness of its forest floors and from the dirt itself raised many many thousands of small furry creatures that scurried away from the light of the day, finding dens and burrows as reprieve from the burning sun. They were simple and plentiful, but still too few. The Lifeblood bore witness to the immensity of its creation and the pathetic scale of the animals on it, and it poured power into a number of its little furry creatures. They grew and grew, some only a few feet, some to the treetops themselves.
The creatures took on strange forms, some with sharp teeth and rending claws, others with hoofs and thick muscular bodies. The very largest shed their fur and grew thick armoured plates of bone as protection from their dangerous and hungry cousins, long legs to keep them above the world below, and longer necks still to reach down into the trees and feast on their bounty.
It was incredible, and it was still insufficient. The Lifeblood again regarded its creation, and this time it was drawn to the tremendous valleys and canyons left as the blood it had pulled from the worlds heart had cooled. They were deep and long, enough so that water from the oceans had begun to flow into them. That water was cool, and it rendered the rifts fit for life.
It was enough. The Lifeblood again worked its power. Stout trees with thick roots grew from the walls of the canyons until they were covered, and then those roots struck out until they formed bridges across the great expanses. On those bridges the Lifeblood hung vast sheets of vines that reached down into the salty waters below and filtered them, rendering them fit for more life.
In the blink of an eye fish exploded into the narrow waters, and before long they were so numerous as to choke themselves. Then, as the Lifeblood had done on land, so too it did here. It took a number of fish and gave them long tails, terrifying teeth, and wide eyes. After this the Lifeblood moved to populate the banks, but hesitated. As a last thought it granted its predators simple legs, and gills that could breathe the air for a short time. They would hunt on the banks and the water.
Satisfied, the Lifeblood introduced the same furry animals it had placed in the coastal jungles here. Many, most, perished. The Lifeblood cared only for those that survived. The rest fed its predators, and they learned that flesh was sweet, so sweet that they could never do without. They grew greedy. The lifeblood did not care.
Again it paused, but this time it felt enough had been done. The world was vast, creation led it away from here. It had to make more, do more, a thousand thousand voices within it compelled it so.
Until one whispered for it to wait. It was a stronger voice, growing within the lifeblood, fuelled by something intangible, and it whispered an idea. The Lifeblood did not consider it, for it was its own idea. It merely acted, and at the center of a cooling volcanic island it scattered a new sort of creature. Perhaps one that would thrive where others had not.
They weren’t small, nor large, but they possessed cleverness. Their wide eyes regarded the world, but in the short time they existed they despaired of and railed against their own creation. For below them the ground was hot enough to burn, and all around them was barren dirt and withered plants.
They died quickly. A failure. The voice that had whispered within the lifeblood cried out, but the Lifeblood cared only for that which survived. The voice fell silent and the Lifeblood moved on.
There was always, always, more to do.
