THE SECOND WORLD
According to the creator of the world, this world they inhabited was not the original world, but rather the second one.
It had fought tooth and claw to kill the creator of the original world. The first world was flawed, cruel, and it had failed. The first world was hated and abhorred deeply by the creator of the second, so it had sworn to itself, and to others, that the second world would be better.
It didn't discard everything from the old world, instead it intended to re-use its parts and reshaped into a better creation, so it did so. After all, the creator wasn't emotionless, it was always attached to what it considered the 'good' of the original world. All throughout it, it spoke the tongue of the original world, and it became the tongue of magic in the new world.
But it didn't want to be a replacement of the old system, of the old creator. It believed the fact only one being had the final say in the creation was part of what had made the first world fail, as it was shaped to the whims of the original creator. So, refusing to be like the last, it brought forth balance, a second being who would help shape the world, The End, the counterpart of it, The Beginning.
But it didn't stop there. It thought it wasn't enough, and brought forth more minds to assist. 20 more, to be exact, 10 balanced pairs, with whom it shared the truth of this being the second world, its goal of making a better creation for all, and requested they assist with shaping it.
And so they did.
From a place they called 'home', which would later be called the Temple of Creation, a piece of land and architecture that seemed to be plucked directly from the original world, a remenant of a home the creator had left behind and undone to start anew, the first souls brought upon the second world spoke. From the sea to the smallest molecules and elements, the creator shaped with its paws and opinions from the others, and maintaining the world they had created.
So, the world was good. It had guidance which the creator felt was fair, and diverse of mind and opinion, yet balanced. The ensemble lived in harmony, and life developed freely, it was almost perfect.
Almost…for the creator always noticed that the 21 helpers it had created always deferred to it. If it disagreed with one of them, they tended to change their minds and agree with the creator instead. If it proposed something, they all wanted to agree, and it didn't think they were voicing their true feelings on the matter.
After all, they all knew it was the original creator of the second world, the one that had made them too, after fighting an unimaginable battle to rip control from a worse creator, the one that had given them name and power, who had shared the tongue of magic, the truth of the world, the whole point of it. How could they not do anything but respect it? How could they not do anything but listen to it? They never could see themselves as equals to it. They would always think they were less than it.
It tore its heart. It loved the world, it loved how free and good it was. But the ones who had helped it achieve it were always in line. It didn't know if they even wanted to be doing this, it never wanted to pry in their minds and invade their thoughts to discover it. That was something the original creator would've done, who saw the minds of others as something it deserved to have access to. It would never do that. But it didn't think they could be honest with it, ever, because they knew too much. It had told them too much, it had put too much pressure on them.
And so, their creator disappeared.
They didn't notice at first. The End knew the creator was gone, but it assumed it would return quickly. Then it didn't. It didn't take long for all the 21 to start realizing the creator was gone, and it didn't seem to be returning, and they had no clue what or why that had happened. The creator didn't tell them anything, it already felt like it had told them too much, and that any more would make it worse, so it didn't leave any clues or notes or signs.
Fear was the primary emotion they felt. What was a world without a creator, without its guidance?
The End was distraught, scared and worried for its 'other half' wellbeing. It cried, and wept, shouting, hoping the creator would listen and answer. Some of the ensemble did as well, but all were different, they all had different thoughts. They tried to continue maintaining the world, but saw the world functioned without their intervention. They had made it good, it was self maintaining, it was self reliant. And most importantly, it was unexplored by them, the very ones who had made it. They had always stayed by the creator's side, after all, never venturing on their own.
They started leaving. Some would say they originally left to look for the creator in the world, some would say they just wanted to leave. Some in pairs, some on their own.
Except The End, it remained inconsolable and lost to its own emotions, snapping out of it only when a shimmer rock, a part of the temple's roof, fell and hit it's wing. It had been crying for centuries, and around it, the temple started falling into ruin from the elements. Alone it was, and it decided that staying in the temple would not be helpful. So it left to look for the creator, and the Temple of Creation finally sat abandoned.