Of all the planes in the astral seas, only one can boast the existence of such a world. The Eye of Creation, its mere presence echoing through the mental realms as the brightest and furthest star. The Jade Pearl that puts all other planets across the physical realms to shame. Most know it as the Divine Realm. I named it Ulti.
Contrarily to what one might believe, the vast majority of natives is made up of simple mortals. However, they do not have to suffer the strife and misery that is otherwise inherent to mortal worlds, as the social structure of Ulti was molded by the only belief system existing in the plane. A belief system with the tangible benefit of being able to elevate regular people to godhood.
The complexity and very nature of their holy book, the Orishah, make it almost impossible to access in full, but its general teachings, along with its first and last chapters, had been compiled in a volume called the Introduction. The Introduction is available everywhere and diligently studied by all children, in the highest white spires and modest village squares alike, with the profound hope of igniting the spark of divinity through enlightenment and taking the first step on the journey of immortality.
Those first chapters describe ULMITA, -the creator goddess of all existence, the one within and without, the insidious lie and absolute truth, the crowned master and lowest slave, the true lover and the origin of all torments- how she birthed existence through suicide for her own entertainment, and how she later came to casually enjoy the song of a feathered snake under the shadow of an ancient tree, surrounded by the entirety of her celestial legions.
That last segment is particularly famous throughout Ulti, for the simple reason that reaching enlightenment effectively means becoming a celestial. More specifically, while only few will ever get to experience it, it is common knowledge that the chosen ones relieve parts of the holy scene of the singing serpent as an actual member of the mythical audience, witnessing their maker through the miracle of enlightenment.
Could there ever be a greater achievement? A higher honor?
Thus, up until the time they leave adulthood and have to take up more responsibilities in their families, all children throughout the plane spend a good chunk of their time meditating on what they’ve been taught that day and the deeper meaning of the introductory scriptures, with the hopes of one day joining the ranks of their heroes righting wrongs throughout the multiverse.
Among those innumerable children is Amet, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed to ponder the mysteries of the Introduction, swaying gently under the pleasant warmth of the sun while his fat sheep lazily graze on the pristine grass of the emerald hills they have known their whole lives. Birds are singing and curious purple critters are slowly edging closer to the meditating teen. Amet has never known physical hunger, but three years ago a friend of his became a celestial and a different kind of hunger entered his heart then.
It was one thing to merely hear about it in stories, and a completely different one to feel a chasm open up between him and his frankly-unremarkable-until-then buddy. To see the blatant shift in how the adults behaved around him before he left to a bigger temple in order to learn from the complete Orisha and be blessed with even greater powers. To be seen as the lesser one, the failure, while Kismet got to live the adventures they’d both dreamed about.
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Amet had decided then to become a celestial. Though reality did not seem to care.
It had been three years since then, and his older siblings were already a lot more obvious in their attempts to comfort and make him "face reality". There were no official cutoff date, but past a certain age, single-mindedly chasing immortality instead of chipping in became less and less socially acceptable, and Amet was fourteen. A month ago, his mother had told him to make himself useful and take care of the sheep, which ate up a lot of his meditation time - though it was still much better than the alternatives -, and this very morning his father had cornered him during breakfast to ask what was it exactly that Amet thought was so wrong about being a mortal.
Despite the perfect weather, Amet shivers at the embarrassing memory and let out a deep sigh before straightening up and focusing on the Introduction once more.
He has memorized the booklet from front to back by now, and whispers the holy words with practiced ease to center himself and chase away doubts and stray thoughts.
Despite the endless rumors and how extensively storied enlightenment is as a process, savants share the frustrating belief that cultivation is a personal endeavor with a different trigger for everyone. The only agreed upon piece of guidance is to “open oneself to the voice in the fabric”, but that is, in Amet’s own words, “so vague it doesn’t mean anything”. So he’d taken to try different approaches, approaches growing more and more eccentric as his desperation grew.
But as he is about to begin reciting the entire Introduction backward omitting the second word of each verse, he barely senses - thanks to his swaying - a change in the rhythm of his whispers. A subtle new cadence to the words compared to those that came before.
The explanation easily comes to mind, he has reached The Heart, a short but controversial passage with one of the rare direct mentions of ULMITA’s heart in the Orishah, one in which readers are shown a unique perspective into the true nature of the goddess. While she was famously known to have immensely enjoyed the Feathered Serpent’s song, the language on who exactly it was meant for is confusing, and has been subject to much debate amongst scholars for millennia.
All of ULMITA’s angels - bare one - had been gathered around her to discuss the Enemy in infinite number of concentric circles, with her strongest generals forming the one closest to her. It was to be a war council befitting of the threat, the likes of which there never was before and never will be again.
But before things could go as planned, ULMITA, the ever playful one, having noticed a golden feathered snake sleeping on the branches of her favored tree, ordered it to either charm her heart into accepting the cold-blooded creature, lest she would sunder reality only to birth a slightly different one, and keep doing so until the creature she’d eventually find in her tree would manage the feat.
The snake was at a complete loss, feeling that such karma with of all of existence was far too heavy a load for him to bear in the face of the impossible task it had been given. Who could claim enough familiarity with the fickle heart of the goddess, the unliving sum of all paradoxes, to even guess at what she might enjoy?
Still, it owed it to all the unborn souls to at least give it its best try. "Would you firssst tell me of your heart, oooh ssstern one?" he dared to meekly ask, to which ULMITA smiled in the eighth way and replied, "Of course, fate-bearer, I have only been doing so since I set free the sands of time, but I suppose I can do so again.”
What followed is not included in the Introduction. It is the central part of the Orishah, and the reason why it is also called “Tales of the Heart”. Amet never got to wonder once more about what the tales might entail, however, since at some point during his musings a pillar of golden light had violently erupted from him and pierced the clouds above, a declaration to the rest of creation that yet another celestial had returned. Rebuilt from mortal flesh by divine light.
Though in this case, it won’t be the one who has called forth the light who will reappear when the pillar disappears.
It won’t be young Amet, who loved axe wielding heroes and whose mother is staring at the pillar of light from miles away, face tinged with awe and worry.
It will be me.