Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, nor am I making any money out of this.
Warning: Non-canon.
I will ignore comments on the OOC nature of Kal-el or the world he inhabits.
Crystal Throne- A Brief History
Summary:
This is not a romance fan-fiction.
This is not a justice league fan-fiction.
This is about Krypton's Last Son.
And he is not our hero.
Story Summary: A short mythological tale of the universe, the first gods and the godkin.
In the beginning there was a shattering of realms. The unmolded wills crossed over into the uncreated; tracing by thought alone a path within it.
And within the bounds they built around themselves, they defined what they were and what they were not- The first laws.
And then, with the torn pieces of the veil, they shaped forms for themselves, each according to the expanse of their non-being. To some went the most terrible forms, endless and fathomless in their nature, and to others went the most beautiful forms; yet still as worthy of worship and fear as their brethren.
The nature of the void isn't. What isn't cannot be defined or limited by the imagination of those within it or without it. It has no depth or breadth, and at any time you are always at its centre.
Even to the self shaped, whose understanding of this universe is as close to perfect as possible, the void is beyond them. It defines non-existence and its non-existence has always been.
When the first two unmolded had collected together into shapeless Will, they had tried to map the expanse of their home, still ignorant of its nature. They had left in separate directions, relative to each other, at infinite times the speed of light, and had promptly lost sense of each other, never to meet again.
An instant eternity later, more unmolded collected and gained Will. Yet they unlike those before them saw no need to gather the expanse of their domain. They knew not why or how, but they understood that the void was indefinable, and would violently oppose any attempts to measure, define or name it.
So they did not try to.
Instead they sought to leave the indefinable, unnamable, non-exietence they occupied; reaching out with their will as far as they could but not in distance. There had to be a border within infinity- they did not know how, but they knew this.
They pushed and stabbed and tore and finally…, a piece tore off; larger and more expansive than their sense could comprehend. And they rushed through.
The void is endless, and bottomless; infinity upon infinity, and so is the veil that contains it. Yet any piece of infinity will always be zero. They had torn off a part of the veil to come through but the veil remained as whole as it had always been.
None thought to why there was a veil or who had put it there. It just was.
So with this piece of infinity, that had no discernable source of origin, they imagined a place of existence for themselves and for each other, all fashioned it with their thought and endless desires and formed out of whatever it was that made up the veil.
And thus a universe was born, an endless vision of endless beings- for endlessness was all they had ever known- and built to fulfill endless desires.
In a place where thought had never existed, the act of thinking was the only source of existence by which this universe' defined itself, and so desperate was it for definition that it pulled on these thoughts to build its foundations until it could take no more.
Many millennia passed in this way, back and forth, the first residents traversed feeding their creation with more thought until it was strong and firm enough to give its final offspring;
Life.
This 'life' was fascinating and new, but the first residents gave it no thought that it should be allowed to continue. Everything then was fascinating and new to them. So' life' continued and flourished, discovered and evolved, and finally, it understood.
They should have it paid more attention- the self shaped, the veil breakers, the first gods. They should have felt the new power that had awoken. They did not, still fascinated, like the little children they embodied, by this universe they had built and continued to build.
Still, not all of them were fools, or children. There were some who knew, some who had seen what was coming. They had felt the shift in power, and had chosen to go back to the other side of the veil, where the universe's abomination would be unable to reach them.
The children they'd left behind laughed at them. What possible power could these 'life things' of their created universe have? They were mites, insignificant- a kind whose value was only as a source of amusement and entertainment to them, the gods.
Rebellion is inevitable.
This is a common theme in almost all religions and mythology. The children of the gods turn against their wills and the created against their creators.
The departing gods were the first to issue forth this prophecy, although their words have since then been lost in the telling and retelling of this tale (It is said that the exact wording is so terrible and potent, that the gods forbid its issuance from any other being other than themselves. Whether this is truth or false, I do not know, but in the telling of this tale from the very few who know of it, I have never had the exact words that the first gods spoke.)
Still, their words spoken, they turned back to the veil and ripped a path back into the indefinable, but sealing it firmly this time, that the coming death may not touch them.
The remaining gods had not been amused at this.
None could possibly dare raise a finger against them, they were undying, they were terrifying, they were the source of this very 'life'. They were not of life. How could that, which they'd had an indirect hand in creating, rise up to smite them.
It was blasphemous. They existed outside and beyond life and had made no such decree that made them its subjects.
So they were unsettled by the words of those who'd gone away.
They would not ignore the warning, they were gods, and they were intelligent and wise. They raised their will and thoughts against the creation of the universe and spoke the words of the great death.
And the universe shuddered and wailed at their betrayal.
How could they turn against it? What had it done to anger them? Were they not revered enough? Were they not loved enough? Were they not hated enough?
No. It would protect its children.
So, for the first time since time was thought into being, the universe rejected the will of the gods and turned instead to its children.
It submitted its will to its first-borns; those whom the gods had favored greatest among its children.
In one clean slice, all memory of early gods and goddesses was wiped clean off millions of minds and hearts. Their love and their hate transformed and became a weapon that the old gods had not known could be wielded against them; disbelief.
The force of will that rang out across time and space shredded it apart searching for the gods that first-borns had worshipped and wallowing up their essence into its own. It searched within the stars, and in grains of sand, in the hearts of the young and the stray thoughts of the old, until no old god was left.
And then it tore at the veil, ripping and slashing at it with such power that its children wept at the pain. But it could not get through, for the veil was closed, and that which it was meant to separate could not be the very same thing that was able to open it.
Then there was silence, and life went on.
Of course in time, the minds of the first born bent the remaining will of the universe and shaped for themselves new gods, who moved to take the places of those before them.
Yet unlike their predecessors they grew the will of the life around them and shaped it as their sustenance, growing ever more powerful with each prayer of belief directed to them, and nurturing it belief with acts of kindness and displays of power.
Life was tied to their survival, for without it they would fade away, although slower than their brothers before them.
They could never again raise their hand against the children of the universe lest they lose their believers and the power that so came with it.
The rest followed as is the natural order of these things; the creation of pantheons, the naming of the gods, the claiming of believers and the battles in between. The stories of these are found in the many tales found across the universe, about the conquests of those beyond the realm of mortality and their various roles in shaping the lives and afterlives of their believers.
The stories are as different and the feats as diverse as the gods that performed them, but in all these happenings there was one unchanging thing. The first-born became unclaimed and remained unclaimed.
None of the gods asked by whose power such was decided but the knowledge was given. The firstborns were outside their reach and would forever remain there.
Of course there are exceptions to every rule, and in this, there were six who could claim the firstborns. Still, even they were forbidden from instigating or accepting worship and only one was given free reign over them.
They firstborns belonged to the universe; outside the control of any god or goddess, to be used as the final weapon, should the betrayal committed by their older brothers and sisters ever rise up again.
The firstborns were as follows;
Those with strength and beauty to match the gods; The Allerians.
Those with intelligence beyond most gods; The Kryptonians.
And those with the will to kill a god. The Oans.
They were the Titans, the Untouchable, the GodKin.
The End