The Lesson of Ancients
The Ansha found himself standing on a vast plateau bathed in eternal light.
There was no sun overhead, yet the world glowed with a soft, golden brilliance that stretched endlessly in every direction. The ground beneath his feet looked like polished crystal, reflecting the sky above as though heaven itself had descended to the earth.
The air was calm.
Too calm.
It carried the quiet gravity of something ancient—something older than the stars themselves.
Before him stood a figure.
The being was shrouded in golden brilliance, his form almost impossible to look at directly. Waves of light radiated outward from him like endless tides, filling the plateau with an aura of limitless wisdom and authority.
The power surrounding him did not feel oppressive.
It felt absolute.
The Ansha's heart trembled at the sight—not from fear, but from deep reverence.
He lowered his head slightly.
"Father… you asked to see me," he said.
His voice felt small within the cosmic silence surrounding them.
The golden figure spoke.
"I have something to teach you."
His tone was both gentle and firm, like a teacher addressing a student who would one day carry the weight of the universe itself.
With each word, the light around him pulsed softly.
The air vibrated like the distant drumbeat of creation.
"Go ahead," said the Ansha quietly.
The figure regarded him for a moment before asking,
"Do you know why we are the Ansha?"
The question echoed through the endless plateau.
The Ansha remained silent, waiting.
The golden figure continued.
"We are supreme beings in the universe."
His voice carried the echo of the cosmos itself.
"No entity, no matter how powerful, can surpass us. All magic flows from us, and all mystical law bends to us."
The words were not boastful.
They were simply truth.
"But humans…" the figure said after a pause.
"They cannot be controlled."
The light around him dimmed slightly, as though acknowledging a truth both fascinating and dangerous.
"Only their magic can."
"That is why we are indomitable."
The Ansha nodded slowly.
He understood the magnitude of what was being said.
The golden figure stepped closer, his radiance illuminating the entire plateau.
"You must show love to all creatures," he continued.
"Even demons."
The words carried enormous weight.
"And you must protect them from evil."
His tone grew firmer.
"Never grow arrogant."
"Never become a tyrant."
"Never let power blind you to compassion."
The light pulsed brighter.
"Understand?"
The Ansha lowered his head deeply.
"Yes, Father."
Even as he spoke, he felt the responsibility settling upon his shoulders like a mantle forged from stars.
The fate of countless beings.
The balance between power and mercy.
The golden figure's voice softened.
"In ten thousand years," he said, "you will understand the prophecy."
The plateau seemed to hold its breath.
"Prophecies are inevitable," the father continued quietly. "Nature ensures they unfold."
The Ansha listened carefully.
"I hope," the figure added gently, "that when the time comes… you will not face it alone."
The words lingered in the glowing air.
"Yes, Father," the Ansha replied.
This time, determination strengthened within his chest.
The light around them began to fade.
The plateau dissolved slowly into drifting fragments of memory.
The vision collapsed.
The Celestial Realm returned.
The Ansha's eyes snapped open.
The distant stars reflected within them—but now they carried something deeper.
Clarity.
Purpose.
"Father…" he murmured quietly.
The cosmic winds stirred around him.
"I must end this."
His voice was calm.
Resolute.
"Let the prophecy unfold."
He rose slowly from his seat.
"But this time…"
The blue robe around him fluttered like the tide of a midnight sky.
Millennia of power vibrated quietly through the Celestial Realm.
"…it will be different."
The stars dimmed slightly as his aura expanded.
Then the Ansha spoke again—his voice cold and absolute.
"I will kill all of you."