Drawn from the forbidden hymns of the Choir's Black Chamber.
Recorded in ink of eclipse and bound beneath the Serpent Throne, never meant for mortal eyes.
I. The Shattering of the Dance
For ten thousand nights the Golden and Silver moons kept their perfect waltz.
Then came the tremor - a breath, a question, a thought whispered from the mortal world: "Must all remain bound"?
And the silver Moon of Malachai answered.
In a moment unseen by suns or stars, he turned his face away.
The golden light waned, the heavens lurched, and the rhythm of eternity fractured like glass struck by its own reflection.
Zakia cried across the void, her radiance dimming into sorrow.
The Bridge trembled. Rivers of light froze midcourse.
Dreams curdled into omens.
Thus began The Great Dissonance, when even silence lost its center.
II. The Descent of the Pale Serpents
From the wound between the moons poured the Pale Serpents,
specters of unbalanced memory -
the regrets of gods, the unspoken grief of mortals,
each seeking a form in the absence of harmony.
They slid through the Chronos Veins,
feeding upon dreams, echoing the names if those who forget themselves.
Where they passed, mirrors clauses, and rivers reflected nothing.
The Choir, once guardians of stillness, became the Lamenters, their song turned to warming, their silence to sorrow.
Each note they sang sealed a serpent;
each silent freed another.
III. The Trial of the Golden Moon
Zakia, alone, faced the spreading eclipse.
She entered the wound where light had fled, and from her tears forged the Halo of Binding, a circlet of molten radiance meant to recall her twin.
But Malachai had tested freedom.
He drifted beyond the orbits of faith and memory,
seeking to know what existed before divinity itself.
It is said he walked among forgotten stars, speaking to the ashes of unborn worlds.
And in that long wandering he learned that even gods can die - not from blade,
but from the loss of purpose.
IV. The Reawakening of the Moonlit Child
As the heavens bled shadow, the Bridge quivered.
From the seam between mortal and divine realms,
the essence, of Bramwell Zuwa stirred -
no longer flesh, no longer ehco,
but memory incarnate.
He rose between the drifting moons,
his form a mosaic of both their lights.
Where he stepped, the Pale Serpents coiled and wept,
remembering the first warmth that birthed them.
To Malachai he spoke:
"Freedom is not the absence of bond, but the will to return."
And to Zakia:
"Love is not the chain, but the choosing."
With these words, he drew the moons together once more,
their lights meeting in a single argent blaze - the True Eclipse.
V. The Second Binding
The Eclipse did not restore the old order;
it birthed a new rhythm, one that breathed between opposites.
Silver and gold ceased their orbit, becoming a single, ever-shifting sphere -
half light, half shadow, ever turning within itself.
The Choir regained their voices,
their lament transformed into harmony.
They sang a new name for the heavens: The Serpent Circle,
where all beginnings and endings coil as one.
And Bramwell Zuwa, neither god nor bridge, became the unseen pulse at its heart -
the quiet certainty that the universe, through broken, would always remember its song.
The World of 'The Inheritance' Universe 
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