No matter how much time passed since the creation of the world, three things remained a constant: conflict, the cycle of life, and stories. In the millennia to come, they would continue to remain constants of the world, until it stopped existing.

Since the invention of stories, the same plots continued to be sung. A good storyteller would give them the illusion of originality, never forgetting the roots that made the stories what they were. Haelon spent his life practicing the art of telling tales old and new alike, enchanting hatchlings as well as adults with his words, that built in their minds images of magical lands far, far away.

For the day of love, he decided to tell everyone the greatest love story he knew: of the darkness, living in its loneliness, swallowing everything it touched, crying tears of silence; and the color, bursting proud and lively into Darkness' life, giving it reason to exist. They could never touch, but they would laugh with each other, talk for long millennia, until they gave birth to the universe itself.

Everything was perfect when, after the tale, couples looked at each other like Darkness would've looked at Color, and whispered secrets a storyteller was not allowed to know.