Natural Magic

Prologue - Worm of Worlds

The Universal Worm hung in the infinite plane of Firmament like a leech in an illuminated pool of gelatin. And as the Worm is master creator, , a sea of clouds and light from which there is no surfacing. A brilliant vastness, glittering like the inside of an endless embankment of snow filled with refracted morning light.

Beautiful though it may be, Firmament is incredibly deadly high energy proto-matter. Deadly, that is, to all but the Worm. The myriad particles, waves, and mysterious other things which fill the infinite pool of gelatin - which would shred you or me on a quantum level - simply bounce off or politely ignore the hide of the Worm. Like a dancer in an earthquake, the Worm is a spine of order in ineffable chaos.

If sound could travel through Firmament, one may imagine effusing from the Worm a repetitive munch munch sound, or perhaps a deep and elastic gorm gorm. The sound of the Worm as it eats the Firmament.

It looks like it is made of giant glazed donuts, stacked to form a tube. The forefront and smallest donut probes the way forward.

The Worm progresses, feeding on in endless mechanical motions like...well, like a worm in dirt. Watch it in a series of concussive waves. They start from the mouth and proceed the length of the body, traveling far and away.

Watch The Worm take another bite, just like each of the uncountable number before. Each of Firmament is processed in the mouth of the Worm, decaying into crude states of matter, like earth, air, and water, by the digestive glands. This base material proceeds into the intestines as an already hot, boiling .

The eye of narration moves to the surface of this , where the Firmament comes alive with the scintillating trauma of decomposition, flowing and swirling and steaming. This bolus could be a new world in the making. It may contain the elements of life.

But that is yet to be seen. It is too hot, at present. See the humid air gush forth from the molten earth. It rises away from the surface but does not dissipate, instead accumulating into a primitive atmosphere.

This air holds the gaseous water, which will later turn into rain, helping to solidify the land. It will run in rivulets and streams, carving the rough surface in its journey to gather into lakes and oceans.

A force previously unknown to the bolus, gravity, presents itself. It holds the released air close to the heavier elements.

Within the , different metals distinguish themselves by density as they jockey for position. They race to the bottom, stratifying the cooling mass. A parfait of lead, iron, gold, and more forms what will solidify into the seams of every miner's dream.

Above the quarreling minerals and lofty air currents, as the world creeps along the slick black intestinal wall of The Worm, pass the suns. These suns which exist inside The Worm are a part of its strange biology. They grow in a line opposite the track on which the world slides.

Five hundred and twelve burning yellow circles dot the figure-eight path of the Worm's infinitestine, providing sunlight to both this neonatal world and others, punctuating the otherwise pervasive nighttime.

In this way are worlds created. Watch as another mechanism of the Worm descends upon this fresh world, flat and round as a coin, sewn with the seeds of mountains, with oceans full of nothing much, ready for the spark of life to nestle upon it.

Gods, like gastrointestinal biota, move in to employ the virgin material.