The evening sky above Starfall City began to darken, casting long shadows over the academy grounds. The soft hum of activity that had filled the city during the day had quieted as night settled in, but in the grand halls of the Great Library, a conversation of cosmic importance was unfolding.
Zui Tian and Wújìn Mèng stood together in the dimly lit hall, their expressions solemn as they processed the cryptic message left by Renxu, the Keeper of Forgotten Truths. The weight of the old man’s words hung heavily in the air, stirring long-forgotten memories deep within their minds. The mention of ancient forces and forgotten knowledge had awakened something in Zui, something he hadn’t considered in eons.
“Anulled…” Zui whispered to himself, the word reverberating through his consciousness. “Renxu… he’s an Anulled being, isn’t he?”
Wújìn Mèng, her arms folded thoughtfully, nodded slowly. “I thought as much when I first saw him. His presence was too paradoxical, too… disconnected from everything else.”
The Anulled were beings beyond comprehension—paradoxes in human form, beings who were both their own beginning and end, entities who existed outside the natural flow of time, space, and existence itself. Even Zui and Wújìn, with all their power as Eternals, had only encountered the Anulled sparingly throughout their existence. They were rare, elusive beings who lived in the spaces between realities, transcending even the greatest of cosmic laws.
But there was more to it, and Zui knew it.
“There are forces,” Zui began, his voice low, “that even we’ve forgotten. Or maybe… forces that have erased themselves from our memory.”
Wújìn turned to her brother, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
Zui took a long, contemplative drink from his flask, staring out at the shadowed corners of the library as though the answers lay hidden there. “Remember what Renxu said about the Dream Academies awakening something ancient? Something we’ve overlooked? I’ve been thinking… gods are ideas, right? They exist as long as the idea exists.”
Wújìn nodded, following his train of thought. “Yes. Even if a god dies, as long as the idea that gave them form remains, they will eventually return.”
Zui continued, his voice growing more serious. “What if there are ideas—concepts so ancient, so fundamental, that they’ve been erased from our memories? Forgotten by the realms, even by beings like us? What if the Dream Academies, by spreading knowledge, by encouraging exploration of the cosmos and its laws, have unintentionally reawakened those forgotten ideas?”
Wújìn’s eyes widened slightly, the implications sinking in. “You mean… there could be gods, or forces, that existed before even we did, and we’ve forgotten them because they’ve erased themselves from our minds?”
Zui nodded, taking another swig of his wine. “Exactly. We’ve always known that existence and non-existence are two sides of the same coin. But what if there are beings—gods or otherwise—that represent ideas so dangerous, so fundamental, that they had to be erased from all memory? Even ours.”
Wújìn was silent for a moment, considering his words. She, too, had felt the strange tug in her mind when Renxu had spoken. It was as if a part of her had stirred from a long slumber, as if some distant memory had tried to surface but was quickly suppressed by forces beyond her control.
“Do you think Renxu was warning us about them?” Wújìn asked softly. “The Anulled—beings who exist outside of existence, who are their own paradox. Could they have erased those forces from our memories?”
Zui scratched his chin, his mind racing. “It’s possible. The Anulled are beyond our understanding. They embody contradiction. They are both the creation and the end of themselves, beings that exist outside the cycle of life and death, existence and non-existence. If anyone could erase something from our minds, it would be them.”
Wújìn exhaled slowly. “But why now? Why would these forgotten forces begin to stir after all this time?”
Zui’s eyes glinted with realization. “The Dream Academies. The spread of knowledge, the unlocking of potential across the realms—it’s changing the cosmic balance. Ideas that were once forgotten, sealed away, are being brought back into existence by the sheer force of will, curiosity, and discovery. As beings learn more, as they tap into the forgotten parts of the universe, they might unknowingly be resurrecting those ancient forces.”
Wújìn’s voice grew colder, her mind processing the gravity of the situation. “And if those forces are returning, they could pose a threat to everything we’ve built.”
Zui nodded grimly. “We’ve always known that power comes with consequences. But this… this is on a scale we’ve never considered.”
Before they could continue, a soft hum filled the air—a sound that reverberated through their bones, as though the very fabric of existence was being plucked like a string. A figure began to materialize before them, not from a portal, but as if the air itself was warping to bring this being into form.
It was Renxu.
He appeared just as he had before—an old man with deep-set eyes that shimmered with paradoxical light, his presence both calm and unsettling. The ancient medallion around his neck glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows across the room.
“I see you’ve begun to understand,” Renxu said softly, his voice carrying the weight of countless forgotten eras. “The forces I warned you about… they are not mere memories. They are ideas, buried deep within the fabric of reality itself. Ideas that even the Anulled feared.”
Zui stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “Tell us more, Renxu. What exactly are these ideas? What have we forgotten?”
Renxu’s expression was solemn, almost regretful. “They are The Primordial Concepts—forces that existed before even the Aether gave birth to creation. They represent the absolute truths of reality, truths so dangerous that even beings like you and Wújìn could not be allowed to remember them. They are the Fundamental Dualities—Concepts such as Existence and Non-Existence, Creation and Oblivion, Time and Timelessness. You, Zui, embody aspects of this paradox, but you do not remember the full truth.”
Wújìn’s voice was steady, but laced with concern. “And now they are returning?”
Renxu nodded slowly. “Yes. The Dream Academies, by spreading knowledge and unlocking the potential of the cosmos, have unintentionally awakened the sleeping ideas. The more the realms learn, the more they rediscover these forgotten truths. And with that rediscovery comes danger—because these forces are not bound by the laws of the cosmos. They are older than even the Aether itself.”
Zui clenched his fists, the weight of the revelation sinking in. “And what do these Primordial Concepts want?”
Renxu’s eyes darkened. “They want to reassert their dominance. They want to return the cosmos to a state of pure balance—or imbalance. They do not care for life or death, peace or war. They are simply the truths of reality, and they will act according to their nature.”
Wújìn’s expression hardened. “So what do we do?”
Renxu’s gaze shifted between them, his form flickering slightly as he prepared to leave once more. “You must prepare. The Primordial Concepts cannot be fought with force alone. They are ideas, and to defeat them, you must understand them. But be warned—understanding them may come at a great cost.”
As Renxu began to fade, his final words echoed in the chamber, a haunting reminder of the danger that lay ahead. “Beware the truth, Zui Tian and Wújìn Mèng. For it is not always what it seems.”
And with that, the Keeper of Forgotten Truths was gone, leaving Zui and Wújìn standing in the vast, silent library, the weight of his warning pressing down on them like a suffocating shroud.
The night outside had grown darker, the stars flickering faintly in the sky above Starfall City. But Zui Tian and Wújìn Mèng knew that the real darkness was yet to come. The Primordial Concepts, long forgotten, were stirring once more, and their return would reshape the very nature of existence.
And the Dream Academies—what had once been their greatest achievement—might now be the key to saving or dooming the realms.