Vehafor Has Joined The Game

Her name was Vehafor.

It meant ‘to create’ in the long-dead language of the dragons who existed only in myths and legends, tales spun by wizened village elders and those before them. The Dragons of the Overworld, the Dragons of the Nether and Aether, and the Dragons of the End. All thought to be extinct, driven out by the heroes of long ago. Thought. No mortal could truly killed one of the great reptilian beasts; but they decided to humor the small creatures and pretend to have perished.

Vehafor.

That is what her mother named her; as she brushed the remains of purple mottled eggshell away with a wickedly curved claw. Slitted eyes shrunk as she scrutinized the child, then flared open at what she saw deep within the makeshift soul that she herself had pieced together. The other Dragons had whispered death would follow any spawn she created, only death and destruction. But she did not see that. No, she saw endless galaxies and other souls deep within. She saw life. She saw creation.

Vehafor.

It was the name whispered like an ocean wave among the end-walkers, slowly building, faster, faster, and then finally cresting into a hushed silence as the mother roared the name across the realms, being heard as far away as the Aether. There, The God frowned, deeply troubled. Nothing good would come of this child. Keep an eye on her, The God told a man with a elegant cloak that shimmered like space itself, and with eyes that screamed with the lies they held.

Vehafor.

It was the name in the form of ones and zeros, etched across codes that was spun into every fiber of every being, from the smallest bat to the most fearsome Wither. It was in the lines of coding that made up the rain and the sun; the sky and the moon; the Nether and the Aether.

She was Vehafor. She was born of the End.

But they were not. They were mortals, like the ones her mother despised. They were born of sunlight and dirt, of water and fresh air. Of life, of family and friendship and warm smiles.

They were called Kotom; called Gomeisa and Nuna. born of gases and stars and threads of fabric. They had been put in this little pocket universe, this... server, by someone that even Vehafor did not know. But that was understandable. She was Creation, not Knowledge. These mortals did not fit the tales of the murdering heroes that her mother spun; they were friendly enough; and for one who had only now come into this world, they were family. They called themselves the Cornercrew, after the story they weaved without even realizing. Threads of time and space, looping them in and connecting them all like a red string of fate.

Vehafor was the End.

And they were only the beginning.