Then, somewhere inside that endless quiet, something stirred. A single thought glimmered like dust caught in a sliver of light. It wanted to be seen.

From its longing came color, sound, and breath. From those three was born a world of pure imagination, small at first, no larger than a candle’s flame, but growing brighter with every heartbeat.

That light became Imaginaria, a realm where every dream, song, and idea ever whispered by humankind could take shape and live.

---

From the heart of that light rose the First Four Lights, the first beings ever to exist. They were not gods, but reflections of what makes the universe dream.

Auri, the Dreammother, carried the warmth of love and the power to give life. Her laughter made the stars blossom.

Leno, the Storysmith, spoke the first words, and his voice shaped the skies into meaning.

Arin, the Weaver of Emotions, filled the new world with feeling. His joy became music, and his sorrow became rain.

Nys, the Keeper of Truth, gave the world memory. Their thoughts formed the mirrors of time itself.

Together, they moved within the Source’s glow. Wherever their steps touched, the world unfolded.

---

Auri’s breath became Solivae, the Garden of Growth, where every creative act blooms into life. Leno’s words built Luminara, the shining city where stories breathe and sing. Arin’s tears filled Mireltha, the Sea of Feelings, where emotions flow like living tides. Nys’s quiet dreams formed Nyreth, the Archive of Whispers, where memories rest in light.

From their harmony came balance. From courage and fear was born Umbrelle, the Valley of Shadows that teaches all things to stay humble. From faith and wonder was born Seraphel, the Horizon of Hope where every lost dream finds its way home.

The six realms glowed together like petals around a single bloom. This was the dawn of Imaginaria.

---

As the light deepened, the First Four poured their essence into creation. From their breath came the Fantasiums, living fragments of imagination. Some were weavers of dreams, some keepers of light, some guardians of memory, and some watchers of the dark. Each tribe carried a spark of their maker’s heart.

And high above, the Source whispered its one promise:

“As long as you are remembered, you will live.”

When a child on Earth dreams, a new star flickers to life in the sky of Imaginaria. When that dream is forgotten, the star fades.

Thus the worlds became mirrors of each other. Reality, the storyteller. Imaginaria, the story made flesh.

---

For many ages, the realms flourished in laughter and color. The Fantasiums built homes of song and gardens of light. Every dream from Earth arrived like a seed carried by wind. And when that seed bloomed, another wonder was born.

But even the brightest stories carry their shadows. In time, humans began to forget their dreams. It happened so slowly that even the stars did not notice.

They turned their eyes away from the night sky and called imagination a child’s game. The rivers dimmed. The laughter faded. And the stars went silent.

The First Four watched in sorrow as their creation began to fade. They knew that once the last dream was forgotten, even they would vanish. Still, they believed in the Source’s final promise, that imagination could never truly die, only sleep.

Before the light dimmed completely, the First Four carved their final hope into the wind:

“When the worlds fall silent, two lights will descend.

One of grace, one of courage.

Born among humankind, they will dream again in our place.

And through their hearts, Imaginaria shall rise once more.”

---

And somewhere beyond the stars, in a quiet little corner of the human world, two lights drifted down.

They rested as tiny seeds of warmth within the souls of two children yet to be born, a sister first, a brother later. Their names not yet spoken. Their story not yet written.

But one day, they would remember. And the stars would remember with them.