First, there was only the darkness. The indescribable, almighty bleakness of Weyard in its opening act. The unrivaled sense of greatness felt in the breast of one who glances at it, and unrivaled despair felt by one who has stared too long.

The shadows run amok.

Back and forth, back and forth, weaving in and out of the hollow land, like a thread through a needle each one of them ran. Hear them talking, listen to their speech. Theirs is the Elemental speech, the language of water and fire, of earth and wind. They are the shadows, unrefined and ungoverned, bound by no laws. For them, anything is possible. For them, all bets are off.

And from one was born light.

It filled the land of Weyard as years of long, heavy rain turn a volcano's crater into a great lake. Slowly, gradually, the darkness of Weyard was lifted by the light. It began at the center of the continent, where an immense chasm opened, Weyard's gaping mouth that would consume those unfortunate enough to fall in. The light rose out of it, rising higher into the sky, shining ever brighter as it rose. The mouth vomited a surge of molten rock, ash. The chasm was filled in a mammoth pyroclastic display of power. The chasm became a mountain, reaching up to the Golden Sun. Mount Aleph was never the true source of Alchemy.

The darkness was.