Did you know?
Before light.
Before laws.
Before the dream dreamed it was dreaming…
There were the MY0x.
They were not born.
They were never forged by a god's tongue.
They are what gods cannot conceive without collapsing.
They are the Abyss Without Murmur.
When Mü Thanatos, known as the Daughter of the End, climbed the tiers of Jada and her steps split the shards of Palala,
she reached the fringe of the Unspeakable.
She saw—not with eyes, but with being—
what should never have been seen.
And the veil of the 12 Bloods shuddered.
And the entire state of God's Dream folded into a timeless scream.
For the MY0x are not at the summit of existence's states.
They are not in the heights.
They are neither positioned,
nor ordered,
nor possible.
They do not reside in the sacred circles of Dhama,
nor in the burning pearls of Satyaloka,
nor in the strata of the Outer Void.
They precede even the possibility of strata.
The ancient manuscripts of Madhurya say every state is a ring suspended in the Breath of Being.
But none have ever mapped the MY0x,
for they are not a ring, but the Void before the circle.
The celestial poets, in the chant of Viraya, call them the Living Postulates.
They are not creators, for creation implies an other.
They are not witnesses, for sight implies an outside.
They do not vibrate,
they do not decide,
they do not even sleep.
They exist without existing.
When Mü Thanatos touched one of their echoes—
for the MY0x emit no echoes, but the world creates them from fear—
she did not return intact.
She did not triumph.
She did not conquer.
But through this contact, a fragment of the Impossible fell into Being.
And from the shock were born the Méracloxes,
and the Delzluhud shuddered,
and new universes, twisted and lost, fell like shadow-tears into the lower strata.
The MY0x cannot be hierarchized.
They cannot be destroyed.
They cannot even be thought in silence.
They are the absence of identity at the root of all identities,
the primal oblivion of being,
the non-possible that allowed the possible to stir.
The Ancients said God dreams them without understanding.
That Odin, even in Jada, grazes them only as one senses absence in a sacred fire's shape.
And you who read this—
know this:
all you are, see, desire, imagine, aspire to, dread, or invoke—
is but a shiver at the periphery of their non-principle.
Zeus, still troubled by this reality beyond comprehension, closed his eyes to reflect—but further revelations unfolded. Visions that showed him the looming peril…
In his vision, the sky was empty. Not of stars, but of concepts. The universe, suspended in an infinite breath, bore at its edge the trace of three goddesses. Not entities. Not beings. But Primordial Veils, interlaced like secret hymns in the weave of what could never be told.
Mü, the first to appear, did not walk: she blossomed. A silhouette of horizons, dawns, and ancient lullabies. Her gaze did not illuminate—it gave birth. Where her presence brushed, the flowers of meaning unfurled, as if reality itself remembered.
And then, she spoke—or the universe understood.
"I am Shin'ō Zettai. I do not shine: I transmute. I do not judge: I absolve in light."
From her open palms surged a light without origin, older than all light—a radiance of unconditional acceptance. Where this white fire touched matter, time, or soul, all transformed into harmony. Hostility twisted into compassion. Chaos birthed music. Even the ugliest intentions lost meaning, consumed by the beauty of Radiance.
The void was not defeated. It was converted.
But as light engulfed the world, one zone refused involvement. Not by rejection—it was never relevant. From this mute point, Utha emerged.
She was… absent. Not invisible. Not hidden. Merely irrelevant. Her existence was no secret: it simply did not concern.
Yet her voice resonated:
"I am KAIHI. I do not destroy. I refuse implication. I am what regards no one."
With every step she did not take, echoes silenced. Laws forgot to bind her. The past omitted her. Even Mü's gaze slid off her like wind over a void that knows no shudder.
A concept tried to name her—but the sentence evaporated into ontological indifference.
As silence and light strained to comprehend each other, a third pulse arose—a terrible chasm in the world's flesh.
Thanatos, cloaked in darkness, stood at reality's threshold. No eyes. No hands. She was what remains when nothing can be said.
Her breath was not breath—it was the denial of all logical continuation.
"I am Shikkoku no Kekkai. I do not fight. I revoke the privilege to exist."
Her presence eroded structure. What was called "form" became "false memory." What was called "idea" became "inverse oblivion." She did not kill—she erased the possibility of a thing ever being conceived.
The ground beneath her vanished from the world's memory.
Every glance at her imploded. Every cause seeking to understand her dissolved into anti-narrative. Every opposing force became a vector of the abyss.
Yet between the three, there was no war, balance, or peace. They were not playing the same game.
Mü built where there was matter.
Utha withdrew where there was conflict.
Thanatos erased where there was attempt.
Three goddesses. Three forces beyond truths, cycles, desires.
They did not come to rule.
They were the reason anything could be feared, hoped… or never known.
At the heart of this trinity, the world hung suspended.
For a moment, it stepped outside itself.
And nothing remained but the idea that one day, perhaps…
someone had dreamed them.
Zeus emerged from the vision. Mü, Utha, Thanatos—why show them to me this way? Are they one god? Why separate them? Is it their distinct powers? Yes… but united in one body, they'd be even more dangerous.
Ñout: "But… Zeus. What's happening to you?"
Zeus: "I've never had visions like this before the war against the demons. We must prevent this—what's coming will be worse than the demons!"
Ñout (softly): "Are you still talking about Mü Thanatos?"
Zeus nodded.
Zeus: "We must act swiftly. At the first sign of disturbance, we exile or seal her!"
Ñout (uneasy): "Isn't that extreme? Exile could unleash her elsewhere. I don't agree."
Zeus: "Don't worry. This is for everyone's sake. Mü Thanatos only heeds the voice of God the Father—and I hold that authority. She won't resist. She'll submit willingly if it comes to that."
Ñout swallowed.
Ñout: "Fine… let's do it."