In the center of Urantium Brymir brought the plasma to inflammation and a gigantic flash hurled the Methas in all directions. It disintegrated all the remains from which they existed, after which they slowly regrouped on the inside of the mantle, around the point that Brymir marked in advance as their new home.
It would not take long before the bunch of e-onns was to reconstruct their Metha bodies from the elements present, after which the building of the new palace could begin. From there they could spread life over creation, where the light of the stars was about to shine. The inner surface of the mantle was still shrouded in deep darkness. Due to the enormous high energy density, temperature and pressure, there were no stars for the time being. Even no other radiation could escape out of creation to reach them.
To remedy this problem, Brymir threw four high mountain chains around the palace yard, and with his will, he created a star that would forever revolve at a low altitude around their residence.
The mountains made a circadian pace possible so that the plants could grow once he had chosen the right atmosphere.
He summoned Agny-Ignis from the fire, Akasha-Mitro from the ether, Danu-Amah from the water, Prithivi-Mata from the earth, and Vata-Leachim from the air. They were the ones that were appointed as the lords of the elements to form the fundamental forces of nature and space-time, together with him.
While the palace took shape, creation cooled off to grow into a mass of quark-gluon plasma and other elementary particles. The whole reacted violently and slipped into the baryogenesis phase while the fog of time reached its ideal thickness on the inside of the mantle.
At the outer surface, the Methas grouped around Ramael in Portus Macu, where he had built a simple retreat for them. He did not possess the gift of making celestial bodies, atmospheres, and other natural phenomena out of nothing, although he managed to initiate some modest nuclear fusions. With that, he illuminated their dwellings as if they were large, never-extinguishing fireplaces. He told everyone not to lose their courage and make the best of the situation. At Ardor's pit, some Methas held watch, where they informed that they occasionally noticed flashes of lightning. On one occasion they struck all the way downwards from free space deep into the shaft, and at other times they shot skyward from the cavern upwards.
When two port accommodations were ready, the Methas started a ritual with hymns with which they brought the misty e-onns snatches down to the white sand sea. They then forced these through the wormholes which hopefully led to the beacons of Brymir, near the core of Urantium.
E-onns were basic components in the enduring cycle of a universe because without them neither beings nor new germs could arise. Brymir remembered the structure of Marantium and knew this would of course work equally well at Urantium. In the burgeoning space, he hung eight beacons which formed the vertices of a virtual cube. Out of a number of e-onns that he had relinquished for that purpose, he formed a substance of high density, similar to quartz. Starting from these reference positions, he weaved the first channels of the afterlife and named the system "Acheron".
If the Methas, at the outside, were successful in constructing harbors and space-time bridges towards his beacons, Acheron would hook itself on to unfold further autonomously. From that development phase, it allowed its own bridge connections to grow around these channels to the outer crust, as roots in fertile soil. Once Acheron completed the necessary connections, the expected flow with soul volume could cross the distance, between the twilight zone and garden, in a fraction of the time that photons needed to travel that far. After all, light could never catch up with the expanding protective layer to get Brymir's realm out of the darkness. For that, they counted on their own local sun.
Brymir experimented with life forms and gave the lords of the elements the freedom to also produce their own peoples.
Within the evolving world space, variations in temperature led to gas clouds. These crystallized rapidly into galaxies, black holes, and other spectacular phenomena to garnish and enrich the young cosmos. Brymir and his rejoiced Methas noticed that, around two of the calibration points, loose e-onn clouds emerged, telling them that a new phase was dawning and their macrocosm had gained viability.
On Ardor's side, the second sign appeared in the same way as the first. Again the sand crust tore and this time it happened so subtly that it was almost impossible to perceive. Coincidentally Fantaell noticed, that sand glided inwards between a recently formed little crack on the ground. He was keeping watch over the pit where Ardor was staying. The prospective harbor master of Portus Konga inspected curiously the strange rupture because it turned out to be too small to be an eruption hole. To his great joy, he saw a fine, purple-colored breakable little stalk reaching out. Quickly he covered the fragile plant, marked the place, and hurried to Ramael to proclaim that life in the universe was getting underway. A germ was about to flourish on the vines of the root system Acheron. When the arch-methas were gathering at the place indicated by him, the stem was already shooting and minuscule bulges appeared in five places, five possible germ buds. They beheld five possible buds that let Ramael solemnly declare:
'A new phase has begun because our friends, in the interior of Urantium, have booted up the circle of life. Now it is our responsibility and task to protect this fresh genesis.'
'There must be light, oxygen, warmth, and protection.' said Pantael nervously after which they sent Ramael, for the second time, into the black hole to ask for Ardor's advice.
Pantael, the third harbor master of Portus Hawala accompanied Ramael because this one remembered the sucking darkness and did not want to descend alone into the obscure quarry anymore. When the two stood at the bottom they seemed to get caught up by the black nothing that surrounded them. There in the deep, Pantael fully understood Ramael's previous restraint and encouraged him, after which they shouted into the blackness:
'Lord Ardor! Please overcome yourself, or whatever that it is that blocks you, and come back up with us, for we need light, oxygen, warmth, and protection to let the germ bud thrive!' Again they had to wait and see if an answer would come. The only and first thing they heard as an answer was the sound of mysterious ticking. Pantael used a number of unimportant e-onns to make light, and the soft glow they emanated helped them to be no longer a couple of stumbling blind wretches in the pit of oblivion. They went in the direction of the sound as they meanwhile occasionally shouted the name of the Mantlelord. Unexpectedly, they stood at the edge of another, much darker depth where the ticking sounded much louder. They called his name again and this time Ardor's voice sounded from the abyss:
'Come closer! Show yourself. Is it you Ramael?'
'It is me and Pantael accompanies me. We need you lord because the germ wants to bud and we have no atmosphere. The fruit lies exposed on the ground under the firmament! We do not know what to do, give us your advice!' They approached and the gleaming coming out of Pantael's thinking center showed them where the repetitive sound came from.
Centrally on the bottom of the new pit, stood a predominant, gigantic, dark blue cube absorbing the sparse light. Ardor chopped a staircase out of the hexahedron with a kind of hammer and chisel. A pile of dusty stone grit was piled up on the opposite side of the improvised staircase and formed, as it were, a steep slope that, with a little goodwill, could serve as a second access ramp. The staircase was nearly finished. Ramael saw that forty stair steps were needed to complete the full height and that Ardor was finishing the last five of them. Outraged and frustrated he yelled suddenly:
'Lord, we are your servants. Let us help you with the work that you want to do here all alone! We will use our magic to...' but Ardor made repelling gestures and said in a creaking voice:
'What I do here, I must do alone. For everyone's sake, I must accomplish this before I can return to take the leadership on my shoulders.' and he hacked further into the hard mass as if he had already forgotten about his sudden visitors. After a loaded silence, Pantael asked, filled with doubt:
'But WHAT is it that you are doing here? To which Ardor moaned:
'This block is the EGO from my vision and to customize it to something manageable I will not have enough time. I have to focus on the accessibility and limit myself to the construction of an entrance for this rock before I show up again among you, my good and faithful Methas. I have to persevere but soon I will return.' Ramael wanted to know what they could do for the germ, so Ardor provided them with the necessary instructions on how to manufacture an air bubble with the desired composition. They could extract the elements for the atmosphere from the free space and the surface of the crust. To keep the first volatile gas mixture in place, they had to throw up barriers and make the etheric gas rotate. The gravity, generated by the ongoing thickening of the mantle crust, would soon suffice to keep the early atmosphere close to the palace and garden. If eight arch-methas worked well together, that should not be to difficult. Before his thoughts darkened again, he addressed Ramael once more and said:
'Mannaell previously performed excellently in the function of the auxiliary constructor of buildings in Tarukopolis. Let him erect a greenhouse around the bud and heat it for the time being with the fire that you can master. You will have shelter, light, and warmth. Follow my guidelines, blow the atmospheric bubble into the greenhouse and you shall also have oxygen. Go now!' The rhythmic knocking sounded again in the gloomy darkness, and the two hurried away on their way to the welcoming sand plain. They transferred the news and the technique concerning the atmosphere to the others and all were cautiously pleased with the progress made.
While three randomly chosen Methas protected the germ with their own materialities, Mannaell, port master of Portus Zanzi in the making, set to work, which soon gave the conservatory a recognizable form. When Mannaell put together the last panels that shielded the building from the environment they noticed that the nodules on the plant were changing from violet to magenta and that they had increased a little bit in size. They did not know if that represented a normal phase until luckily an important visitor came by, in the person of Captain Aran. He confirmed what they hoped, yet the rest of his visit did not go completely smoothly.
After the birth of Urantium out of Taruko's palace garden, Aran sailed away for a short trip with the Curato to dock at a place not so far from the Makara. First of all, Varuna wanted to examine the ship for adders and other scum, which meant that Aran could not sail it back to its parade dock at Mito's palace on Chondrion, right away. Mito left Marantium the immaterial way and his body was to be returned with the first ship that came from Portus Excelsior that received permission from Varuna to continue traveling. Aran also had to leave his shape and hurry himself to an empty body in Mito's halls, to take command over the Panduri.
The new ship still stood in scaffolding, finished for three-quarters, and adders-free since it was never used it could not have caught any contamination. The unfinished section concerned mainly comfort amenities and certain non-crucial safety utilities. With that ship, he had to load as many basic raw materials as possible and take different space bubbles in tow, all filled with elements, necessary for a universe in development. The supply chain came as good as completely to a standstill because all ships were sailing to Marantium for inspection. Because a new universe was given priority, fortunately, he was sailing towards Urantium with an overloaded and uncomfortable ship.
The transport ship Panduri flew through the semi-darkness and searched the voids of Urantium in search of the lights of its harbors. Captain Aran adjusted his sight because for the time being he saw not one light point on the surface. Apart from an occasional eruption of the crust, nothing moved, and even a palace did not seem to exist here. Were they too early or did it turn out to be that Urantium was to be stillborn or a failure? Not a moment too soon, Morkh the deck master shouted in the grayness :
'Light on starboard, twelve degrees!'
On Urantium Mannaell luckily used translucent panels for the roof of the bud house which was actually unnecessary due to the lack of a light source hanging above it. He nevertheless believed that sooner or later one or more suns would shine. Thus, he took the effort of installing translucent plates through which, thanks to Ramael's fires, they could be seen from free space from afar. Aran decided to take a look there because he saw Ramael's fires as a light beacon. They decoupled the transport bells and stabilized their flight in a long, slow circuit circle. The Panduri left the parked load and made a wide curve. At the landing, they narrowly avoided a dark well. Aran walked in the direction of the only building on the perimeter and sent a powerful mental message to the environment because in the absence of air, the use of sound was probably useless:
'Ahoy! Is someone there? Good people here!' From the pit, he felt a vibration rise as if it were the rumbling stomach of an eliminator dragon. Aran assumed that it was an eruption gap. He did not think it wise to build a construction so close to an unstable surface and accelerated his step somewhat. The captain stepped in the direction of a high gate beside which, to his relief, a gong hung with which he could announce his arrival. He tapped the shiny disc firmly and waited. The echoing sound betrayed that there was a very local air bubble hanging in the unsophisticated building.
The warning cymbal at the entrance of the building gave him a reassuring feeling. It showed a form of development and it was also a sign that appointments were made in this place. Maybe inside he was going to get some answers to his many questions.
The high gate swung open and a Metha introduced himself as Jannaell, harbor master of the future Portus Deltacon. Aran focused on his hearing center because the word "harbor master" sounded like music in his brain rings. He presented himself with his name and function:
'I am Aran, captain of the Panduri and I am looking for the ports. Is there a chance that you can tell me something more about their existence and possible locations, Jannaell?'
'There are currently two ports ready, sir and I can guide you thither.'
'That is an outstanding idea, Jannaell. I probably will take advantage of your services after I have spoken to the Mantlelord, and made a brief inspection of your infrastructure.'
'Mantlelord Ardor is not himself since we arrived here and is staying in self-chosen seclusion. Soon he will take up his duties.' Aran frowned, as he was not feeling pleased with the course of things. He followed Jannaell inside and after a few corridors, they stood in the central part that almost completely consisted of the brightly lit conservatory. Aran looked at the interior of the simple construction. He concluded that the inexperienced crew with great dedication compensated for their lack of skill so that the germ seemed well taken care of. The lack of leadership, on the other hand, felt poignant and painful. Meanwhile, dozens of Methas gathered around him, and sighing he said:
'I believe that there is a lot of goodwill here. When I look at the germ, I recognize that the potential needed for growing a full-fledged universe is present. However, I warn you all that it is required that the Mantlelord comes to his senses rather quickly! If a catch-up maneuver does not happen soon, the backlog will be too large to be dealt with. Two havens are not enough to be operational! Even without a Mantlelord as a guide, you all will have to continue to work on that in the meantime, if Urantium wants to make a chance. I will have to report this to my superiors and therefore also to the Amarantia guild. In all probability, delegates will be chosen to come over here for investigation and to determine what goes wrong.'
'We understand you perfectly clear, milord...' tried Jannaell to condone the course of events. Aran, however, silenced him firmly and said:
'Take a good look around, dear Jannaell! Do you really understand? Do you want to receive the lords of Amarantia in this cold, gray stable?'
'Unfortunately, we do not have enough expertise to build a real palace. We shall once again beg Lord Ardor to complete his meditation and join us. You will notice that everything will turn out fine. This is a small setback that we shall use to toughen the young Methas and lift their expertise to a higher level.'
'I truly believe that it will be okay if I see what you have already accomplished without a master! If it depended on me, I would enlist you all immediately in the fleet because it would be revengeful if such efforts were not rewarded. I, in turn, will make a sacrifice to help you and temporarily second Vazinell here o, Urantium. He once was, just like Brymir, the right hand of a Masterbuilder in Byzantia. Vazinell can help you to build a decent shelter where the representatives of the Amarantia group can be received with dignity.' Aran left the gathered Methas of Urantium and went with Ramael and Cantaell on their way to Portus Macu and Tortu, where they unloaded as many raw materials as possible. Ramael watched the vahana ship disappear into the heights and flashed back to his body, which was left in the hall next to the verandah. He briefly consulted the others and descended for the third time into the gloomy blackness of Ardor's residence, together with Schruttone and Karendell, port manager of the future Portus Tartan.
Their limited abilities hampered them excessively. On their own, they possessed too little knowledge and together, without a real moderator they experienced the greatest difficulty to come to solutions. If Ardor had already built the room of awareness and left them the key to it, they might have been able to fill the gaps. Unfortunately, the dice fell differently and they could not think of any other option except to try to convince Ardor to return so that he would take matters into his own claws.
They went down and lightened their path with luminous e-onns without seeing anything in the first pothole. They descended further into the cave with the dark blue, semi-glossy six-sided octagon. Ramael noted that the polyhedron seemed shrunken to half and the stairs finally were finished. Apparently, the thing could adapt to the new dimensions because there were only twenty stairs steps to be seen this time. The three climbed the octagonal structure along the stairs and dispersed their faint light over the surroundings. They noticed that since Ramael's previous visit, strangle roots had overgrown the cube so they went down again to investigate the mysterious vegetation. When they touched the creepers they lightened up in a yellow glow. The light spread in the vegetation, and to their dismay, the cave turned out to be a gigantic, deep corridor, completely overgrown by the parasitic life form. Schruttone noticed that there was oxygen in the cave and he cried out as loud as he could:
'Lord Ardor! Give us a sign, for we desperately need you!' The yellow light turned orange, peppered with red glowing dots. Ramael, Schruttone, and Karendell begged until finally, Ardor's voice resounded from the depth of the usurious crop:
'Ramael? Where did you stay that long? I have waited here for you since the beginning of time.' The three searched between the yellow and orange stems to find the source of the voice. Eventually, they separated five arm lengths from each other and each called something in turn, hoping that their lord would answer. Finally, he muttered something incoherent, after which they quickly determined the intersection of their collective perceptions and burned a pathway through the strangling crop. They found him and tried to roughly tear him away from the intrusive herb until Karendell alerted the others to the three deep blue cords, that seemed to fuse with him. Schruttone drew back because he was about to brutally remove one of the three. Ramael perceived that the aggressive plants grew out of Ardor instead of keeping him tied so he tried to talk to him:
'Sir Ardor, the fleet has unloaded cargo for the first time in our two only ports. The captain seemed dissatisfied with our progress and we expect that a delegation from the universal council will come, here on the spot! He left someone to build a palace. You really have to intervene now! What can we do to save you from this doomed situation and what do these strangling stems growing out of your body mean?' Ardor looked at them and said:
'Those are my doubts Ramael...'
'Why do you not overcome them?'
'I try to beat them and again and again they multiply!'
'What can we do?' Ardor seemed to emit light as if he just got an idea and mumbled:
'Can you believe in me, Ramael?' Ramael nodded and exclaimed loudly:
'Hail Ardor! Guardian of peace and tranquility on Urantium.' To their surprise, they saw one dark root withering to die. Schruttone complemented Ramael with renewed courage:
'Hail Ardor! He is the personification of order and fortitude!' To their delight, also the second strand crumbled into dusty clouds. Karendell also made an attempt with a trembling voice:
'Ardor Belac is our Mantlelord!' The last strangle strand did not fall off and, on the contrary, fresh shoots came out of it. Ramael ventured a new attempt and cried:
'You should not doubt, Karendell. Come on friends, repeat what I say!:
'Ardor Caleb is our Mantlelord, guardian of peace and tranquility. He is the personification of order and steadfastness. The rigorous and righteous is he, in solid prosperity! Hail Ardor! Hail Urantium!'
A claw showed up from beneath the knots and Ardor tore, with his own willpower, the last cursed noose out of his chest.