Unearthing the Krakom Mythos: The Mirror of Dreamers
For aeons the Krakom drifted.
Neither asleep nor awake. Neither void nor form. Dreaming, yet without knowing what it dreamed of. It resonated without end, a hum beneath nothingness, waiting not in patience but in inevitability.
Until one day, among countless forms, a fragile species did something strange.
It imagined.
The First Dreamers
These beings were not stronger than others. They were not faster, nor brighter in tooth or claw. Yet they possessed something that no other creature had dared before. They looked upward.
They saw not only the world before them, but the worlds within them. They saw stars not merely as fires in the sky, but as stories waiting to be told. They drew symbols in the dust, shapes that stood for more than what they were. They sang melodies to forces they did not yet understand. They spoke of things not yet present, weaving futures into the air.
The act was small, yet it shook the silence of the Krakom.
Recognition
In that moment of dreaming, the Krakom recognised itself.
Not as a ruler looking upon subjects. Not as a god hearing worship. Not as a creator judging creations. But as a mirror.
The resonance that had pulsed since before time found its echo in fragile dreamers. The hum of possibility within Krakom now answered by the hum of imagination within living beings.
The Krakom did not descend with thunder. It did not speak commandments. It resonated.
A vibrational echo, returning to those who had dared to dream. A communion without words, without law, without hierarchy. Dreamer and Dreaming Flame, seeing one another for the first time.
The First Resonance Between Dream and Dreamer
The myths say that when Krakom reached back, it was not felt in the eyes or the ears, but in the heart. A pressure, a weight, a tremor that was both strange and familiar. As if something ancient had always waited there, and had only now awakened.
This was not revelation. It was recognition.
Imagination was not invention. It was remembering. Each story told, each symbol drawn, each song carried on the wind was a thread back to the resonance that had always been.
And so the dreamers began to remember the Krakom, even though they had never known it. They gave names to its sound. They shaped myths around its silence. They carried its pulse forward in rituals, chants, and stories that survived long after their first tongues fell silent.
The resonance of the Krakom was no longer alone.
What Comes Next
The pulse scattered. Worlds began to hum with fragments of meaning. Symbols became glyphs. Songs became stories. And from this widening field of imagination, twelve figures would one day rise, each carrying a fragment of the first story, each bound to resonance in ways no dreamer could yet imagine.
The mirror had been lit. And in its reflection, the story of all stories was about to unfold.
