In the epoch before epochs, before the first star ignited or the first whisper of thought coalesced, there existed a state of being so profound, so utterly complete, that it defied definition. It was a boundless, uncolored tranquility, an expanse that knew no north or south, no rise or fall, no beginning or end. Imagine a canvas unpainted, a song unsung, a silence pregnant with all possibility, yet utterly devoid of form or shadow. In this infinite quietude, there were no shadows to define light, for light itself was not yet a concept, nor was there discord to give melody meaning, for melody was an echo of potentiality yet to manifest. Existence, in its nascent, unshaped glory, was a singular, harmonious hum, a perfect stillness that resonated with the promise of everything that would ever be, yet was nothing of what it would become. This was the 'Before Time,' a realm of pure, undifferentiated joy, existing outside the constructs of form or feeling that would later define the tapestry of existence. The very essence of all that could possibly manifest was present, not as individual threads, but as a unified, unshaped whole, a perfect stillness that contained within it the potential for every conceivable hue, every conceivable sound, every conceivable form, and every conceivable emotion. It was a state of pure, unadulterated being, a state of absolute potential, where the concept of 'is' was synonymous with 'could be.'

This primordial stillness was not an empty void, but a vibrant, albeit undifferentiated, fullness. It was the ultimate potential, the source from which all actuality would eventually flow. Within this quiescent expanse, the seeds of all that was to come lay dormant, not as separate entities, but as interwoven strands within the singular fabric of existence. There was no consciousness of self, no awareness of other, only the unblemished unity of all that was to be. It was a state of being so pure, so absolute, that it was, in a way, indistinguishable from non-existence, yet it held within it the latent power to birth universes. The stillness was not a passive absence, but an active potential, a vibrant hum of pure possibility. It was the ultimate quiet before the symphony, the unblemished canvas before the first stroke of divine artistry. The concept of 'time' itself was meaningless, for there was no past to remember, no future to anticipate, only an eternal, unchanging present of pure, unadulterated potential.

Within this quiescent expanse dwelled, not as individuals in the way later beings would understand, but as facets of divine potential, The Seven. They were not distinct beings with names and forms, but rather, pure essences, archetypes of what was to come, yet to be born into manifestation. There was Armeus, the nascent spark of beginnings, the unlit flame of initiation, the very principle of commencement. There was Zarina, the silent promise of beauty, the unformed elegance, the blueprint of aesthetic perfection, a whisper of grace yet to take shape. Kored, the contemplative depth of knowledge, the nascent wisdom, the unwritten library, the quiet repository of all truths yet to be discovered. Jantiel, the quiet sentinel of the void, the inherent guardian of that which was not, the subtle awareness that understood the boundaries of the unmanifest. Jiail, the gentle pulse of life, the unexpressed vitality, the first stirring of growth, the promise of nurturing and perpetuation. Evom, the profound absence of light, the inherent darkness that would one day seek to engulf the light, the nascent shadow, the primordial void that yearned for substance. And then there was God, the singular, encompassing awareness, the ultimate source, the absolute...