Once upon a time…
There was a King and a Queen. They loved each other greatly. They ruled the galaxy, listening even to the asteroids, who have no soul nor thought, such was their attention to their subjects. The Kingdom was regaled as the fairest and most just of all, and many denizens of the multiverse arrived there to spend out their days in comfort.
Together, the King and Queen had many children. As the parents were immortal, so were they. After millions, or billions, or even trillions of years, the children populated the galaxy. These offspring were forgetful, however, as all children are of their parents.
They left in different directions, each to claim the tips of the spiral arms. Of the millions, or billions, or trillions of children, only eight were foremost amongst them.
One was named Hero. She was a fine woman, capable of simultaneous wrath and grace. She claimed the north arm of the galaxy. When her people cried out, she rose to free them of their agony, no matter the personal cost. She laid herself prostrate before her kingdom, and sacrificed her soul for its betterment.
The second was Vileness, an evil man who saw himself in all things. He claimed that his parentage was of his own doing, and declared that all those who refused to worship him were blasphemers and false prophets. He used his people as most denizens of the galaxy might use dirt. He considered them worthless, save that they served some miniscule purpose in his heart. He took the northeastern spiral arm, and the many dim stars there were evidence of his tyranny.
The third was Haste. He hurried to the eastern arm of the galaxy. He rushed before the cries of his people, providing for them their thoughts from which desire sprung. He gave before there was need, and thus his people knew plenty and were sloth-like. They became dead things for lack of care. Haste lives there alone, and his mind run circles around his actions.
The fourth child had no gender, and its name was Forgotten. It rested for many long years before it claimed the southeastern arm of the galaxy. It sat and despaired, for it knew in its heart that it was alone. Its people grew in power and strength over millions of years, and became their own masters. They spread to other galaxies and universes and were immortal in their own right.
The fifth child, who claimed the southern arm of the galaxy, was a daughter. Her name was Beauty and it molded her appearance. So great was her allure that stars were born and shined bright for a billion years longer than they should have, just for the chance that one of their rays might come to rest on her naked breasts. Her people looked upon her and starved, slavered, and desired, though she bade them to work and care for themselves. Although she was soon alone, she was never lonely, looking in her mirror and beholding her own form.
The sixth was called Victory, and won for herself the southwestern arm of the galaxy. She was always a maiden, yet had at her door her pick of any of the bachelors of the universe. Each aeon, she opened her fortress, and her people begged and prayed for her to join them. Finally, after resisting their cries for endless generations, she bestowed upon them a great sword that destroyed planets and dimmed suns. The people, seeing their advantage, brought down her fortress walls and took her as their captive.
The seventh child was Art, and he only took lovers from among the men of the western arm of the galaxy. He interpreted his people’s hearts with passion. Rather than hear their prayers, he felt their emotions. When there was anger, he brought calm. Where he saw love, he created hate. His kingdom was chaos always, and lost were the people who lived there.
But the eighth child was the most powerful of all, for he was Death, and he ruled the northwestern arm of the galaxy. All was empty there, devoid of the life that once flourished in its warm embrace. His essence spread across the remainder of the galaxy, though he was deaf, dumb, and blind. His thoughts were a contagion on all things, and could not be stopped but for the will of his parents, whom none have seen nor heard, and whose subjects are silent in the Kingdom.
For who can think that they may overpower their own creations? None but the gods shall survive within their own mind, and none but Man may exist outside it.