The First Eclipse

Once, when all we knew was young, there was only the Creator. He did not constantly watch the worlds He made, rather, He simply created them, starting them on the path to be the world they wanted to be. With the potential of His mind, the peace of His spirit, and the fight of His will, these beings were born to a universe of endless possibilities. Rarely has He ever answered a summons, but on this fateful time, a particularly sullen world called out to Him.

“Give us light, we beg of you,” its people said. “Through your guide, we may become new.”

And the Creator, ever patient, fashioned together a ball of rocks and minerals in a matter of seconds. And with a fragment of silver light from His eye, the spark of life within was set to shine forevermore.

He called it, Bwan, and as that name echoed through generations upon generations of people, its pronunciation changing with every retelling, its original meaning was eventually lost to time. The word, however, was as omnipresent as the ball itself: Bwan, became what we knew as one.

Bwan was the solitary being of the sky, and the only light of this darkened world. But as her rays began to hit the surface, the people began to see, and they began to work. In a matter of centuries, under Bwan’s dim light, the world began to grow.

But Bwan herself was struck with doubt. Shall my soft light really be the only light this world will ever see? Can they do so much more if 2 there will be? So once more, the Creator was called back, this time not by the cries of the people, but that of a whole being.

“My rays are dim, my light is soft,” she began. “This world’s light I cannot hold aloft. I am alone, a single being called Bwan. With your help, I can no longer be the only One.”

And the Creator, ever humble, created her lifelong companions.

First, there was Araw, a being of gases and of blinding light. Blessed with bright flames from the Creator’s other eye, its golden hues were the perfect complement to Bwan’s solid core of eternal silver.

And secondly, there were the Bitwins, pinpricks of light that filled the sky in a beauty of patterns both bright and dim. They would be the connection of the 2 beings that now lit up the sky, each message bounced over and over by the dots of light that now pierced the night blue sky.

Bwan saw this all, the way the people worked more and more under the orange blaze of Araw, while they gazed up at wonder as Bitwin made themselves visible under her dim light. And she smiled. The Creator left, and the world kept moving on.

As the millenia passed once more, so too did these new names become those of common words, much as Bwan’s had been. Bitwin became between, the ever-present connectors of the beings above, as reliable as they were hyperactive. Araw, however, became something far more negative: arawgant, or, as is more common now, arrogant.

That was because, in the years that it gave its light to the people below, Araw had indeed become very arrogant. Originally, all parties had accepted that these men and women needed both the orange, working, lights of Araw for half the time, and of the silver, relaxing, lights of Bwan for the other half. But Araw, he saw what happened when it was his turn in the sky, against that of Bwan’s. He saw people moving faster, working harder, making more and more progress, all under his light, and not hers!

And thus, the 50-50 divide, soon became 55-45. Then 60-40. Then 70-30. 80-20. 90-10. Until finally, Araw was blazing his light for the entirety of the world’s days, plunging the people to a never ending era of work and heat. Bwan, soft-spoken as she was, let it all happen, all the while arguing that if people can work more, then that is simply better than using their time to relax. Is it not? From lack of use, her once beautiful glow began to slowly dim and fade out, the difference between ball of rock and celestial being slowly fading away.

But the Bitwins, they could not sit by and let it happen. Day by day, as Araw’s rays scorched the world, the stars glowed and dimmed, as if they were all neurons in the galaxy’s vast brain, searching for an idea to make the situation balanced once more. Until one day, all the stars glowed at once, then dimmed again: an idea. Combat would never work: even if they had a chance to win against Araw, the world could explode between them, and now what would they fight for? Then it came to them: a prank.

The stars converged all around Bwan, forming a cloudy ring around her. Through this ring they whispered to her, plans of trickery and plans of deceit.

“It was two, and it shall always be two. Help us find balance, and take a place in the sky for you.” This had Bwan agreeing, and for the first time in countless years, she glowed silver once more.

That was the easy part. The Bitwins dispersed, and began to combine once more, this time behind an Araw too busy observing the world to notice it at all. The shapes were intricate, and the normally jumpy and constantly moving lights were completely focused on selling the illusion. Finally, a group of lights blazed gold, while another blazed silver, and they were ready.

“ARAW.” The booming voice shook Araw to his gaseous core, and he turned from the world he was lighting up to see… Him.

The Creator was floating behind Araw, in all His glory. Indeed, he could even see the silver lights Bwan had been born from, and the gold that now made up his whole being. And for once, Araw was scared.

“A partner was asked, and a partner I gave. Disappointed, I am, shall I wash you away with a wave?”

And as Araw was distracted by the threats of this “Creator,” Bwan sneakily moved closer and closer to him. As she neared, she began to grasp the problem with the situation: Araw was huge. He was far bigger than they had ever planned, and she had no clue how she could follow Bitwin’s plan. Still, they could only stall for so long, and she had a part to play.

The people below were busy working, unaware that Araw had averted his gaze for the first time in a long time. The light still shined, the heat still blazed, and they had no reason to suspect otherwise. At least, until the giant shadow began to move across the fields. The farmers and craftsmen dropped their tools, and even the noise of the marketplace died down, as all looked upon the sky.

Where their light had been seconds ago, was now a black hole, with the thinnest ring of orange trying desperately to escape around it. They stared. It stayed. And then the screaming began.

When Bwan finally moved out of the way, the light filtered back into the world. And yet, the panic remained. The Bitwins saw all this, and knew their plan had come to bear fruit.

Their voices boomed once more. “Witness, Araw, what your reign had made! They scream, they panic, they are afraid!”

Araw turned, and indeed, he could see on the surface below that the work had ceased completely. Chaos had quickly taken over, and the least fortunate fell prey to the more opportune.

Araw had no words, no power, and no idea what to do. He could give light, but that was all he ever had, and if it had caused this… what would more light even do?

“Help, I beg of thee! I have faulted, I have wronged, this sky is not for me. But fear has grasped my world, please help them be free!” Araw begged to the now fading “Creator,” as the Bitwins slowly took their spots back in the sky. But in the final moments of their illusion, they shouted out in a faltering chorus:

“This sky is for two, this rule I set. A singer cannot sing alone in a duet.” And with that, the last of the Bitwins moved away, leaving Araw alone once more. He may had been arrogant, but he was far from dumb, and did not stray before seeking Bwan for the first time in years.

The Bitwins couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, as Araw regaled Bitwin with stories of the “Creator,” all he had seen, and all he had heard. And in the end, Bwan was all too happy to take her spot back in the sky, her silver light washing away the panic in the people’s minds.

Many say Araw never truly lost his arrogance. It would manifest itself once more every few centuries, but this time, Bwan and the Bitwins knew what to do each time. And as the periods of darkness, these eclipses, would cover the world once more, the fear would step right back in. However, they say, if one managed to stay quiet enough, and find themselves a quiet enough spot, and listened really, really, closely, you could almost hear the stars themselves laughing.

And Bwan herself laughing right alongside them.