It was a small planet. It had everything it could possibly need, but it was small. There were four other planets around it, two of which were gas giants while the other two were ice giants. They all orbited around a red dwarf star—forming a celestial system.
Two moons orbited the planet. On the planet itself were three continents; two were archipelagos—uninhabitable to the three species that lived on the planet.
The first was humanoid but had fur covering everything aside from their faces, breasts, and pelvises. They faintly resembled Neanderthals in intelligence, only able to communicate with one another through a series of archaic, mucus-filled grunts and feral flails, gestures. They did as any other species did to survive. Hunted, ate, urinated, defecated, mated, and produced offspring. Qunsians, they were called.
The second species was of a hive mind; larvae and flies—specks of dust to the naked eye when flying alone. But they swarmed around together, not in tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, or billions, but in a mass that exceeded any number. They communicated through their wings that produced a high pitch pinging sound. However, they were incapable of any higher form of intelligence, having no need as they only desired to require what was needed to survive, just as any other species would. They hunted, ate, excreted waste, mated, and produced offspring. Arkaitz, they were called.
The third and final species were plant-based. They resembled sunflowers. However, they bore teeth—mouths—on their jaded leaves. Their petals around their disc floret were of colors that could not be perceived by the human retina. Technicolor would have been the most penetrable way to depict it. Going by a clockwise pattern, each pedal alternated in length, either an inch shorter or longer. Short, long, short, long. And each petal was a different color. A pattern of petals that were perfumed with perfection. Thalanors, they were called.
They were all in a Rochambeau conflict with one another. The universe's first form of symbiosis. The Qunsians would eat the Thalanors, the Thalanors would eat the Arkaitz, and the Arkatiz would eat the Qunsians.
However, the Thalanors were different from the other two. They did not hunt, excrete waste, or mate (they did produce offspring through mitosis). No, they possessed a much higher intellect than the other two species. They were capable of dreaming.
The Qunsians would only see sparks of static—of thoughts—while they slept. And when they awoke, they remembered nothing. The Arkatiz would die when the second moon would finish its revolution, never having the chance to dream.
Having been fixated to the ground since birth, and having no alternative (aside from eating the Arkaitz, that flew too close to their nectar, or being eaten by the Qunsians), the Thalanors wrapped their leaves tightly around themselves and dreamt.
.
.
.
"Something is wrong. You can feel it, can't you?"
"What?"
The Thalanor dreamt. But instead of being met with the familiar yet foreign land of lucidity, it found itself in the same place where it had fallen asleep. Beside it was another Thalanor, no. It was the same, yet it was different, like the same species but a different breed. It had scarlet petals around its disc floret. Its stock and leaves were noir, not jade. On its leaves were strange, exotic, white wrappings. It spoke again.
"The universe. There is something wrong. Something I did not permit."
"What? I—I don't understand."
The scarlet-petalled Thalanor continued.
"I have been traveling through the madness of the universe, and especially of this planet's. Nothing is wrong, and yet there is something very, very wrong. Something is crying out, something has gone mad—!
Suddenly, it burst into flame, wrought forth by the antithesis of anguish.
The Thalanor had never seen fire, only heard of it in passing through the messages transmitted through root and pollen and tongue. But this was fire; it was sure of it. It bore witness to it and was terrified of it.
The black Thalanor writhed back and forth as its petals, leaves, and florets burst into flame and crumpled to ash.
"It burns, it wishes to raze everything!" it cried. "But… the madness… the madness… the madnnnnnnn…"
The silent screams of the estranged plant rang out and writhed in the Thalanor's mind—burrowing deep in its slumbering subconscious like a terrible parasite.
Fire, fire! It could feel its heat, feel the burning, feel the death.
When the Thalanor awoke, it gasped. If it had eyes, they would be agape with tears. The dream, its dream. It made no sense nor bore any significance to the Thalanor, but it was sure of one thing. Something in the universe had died screaming. Something in the universe has gone mad.