The Zushakon Aeon

"Between" by art-vander (resized) is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0

A Tale of Death Before Life

Aeons ago, the order of life and death was given an overhaul. The realm of the living, temporary and fleeting, was a footnote to the repeating souls that inhabited it. The "true" world - if anything could be said to be such a thing - was the Underworld. Living was a temporary distraction, a vacation into the physical to experience new things, live a new way, and perhaps come back to the lands of the dead with some wisdom.

The creator known only as Zushakon began its universe with a finite number of sentient souls. None knew how many, since none understood counting. None had names or stories or even an environment to learn from; theirs was a world of blank, infinite darkness. All that existed were shapeless, shifting souls that were neither tormented, delighted, nor bored, for they had never experienced such things.

In time, some souls began to vanish, but no one was worried, for they had never experienced worry. They were not concerned, for they had never experienced a threat. The colorless, formless cloaks they left behind simply waited, shuffling in the dark as more and more disappeared, born into the physical world for the first time.

Beautiful Echoes

Of the many faiths and beliefs of the physical domain, none ever knew the truth. When born into the world, the soul left a cloak of death behind in the Underworld - or as they called it, the Beforelife - and took on the mask of flesh. When the flesh expired, the soul returned and splashed its cloak with a new color. Returning to their cloak restored the memories of who they were before death. The sprays and splatters of color held the memories of who they had been in that lifetime - their victories and defeats, loves and losses. These colors, known as Echoes, became part of their greater identity, and allowed the soul to consider... everything.

As more souls experienced physical existence, they returned to a colorless void, but others with Echoes stood out from the dark. They gravitated toward one another, and having now experienced communication, shared their tales. Communities grew in the dark, becoming larger and more colorful. So too did their tales, and their amusement with the nature of being alive and the conditions of each demise.

The Beginning of the End

Across millenia, the Zushakon made a world of delight in the dark, each new story adding to a vibrant collage, until something occurred that they couldn't understand.

A soul's cloak suddenly disappeared. All of its memories, colors, and Echoes had disappeared, as well. The souls that remained pondered the meaning of the event, but had no grounds for explanation. It wasn't that a shroud was unoccupied while its soul was busy being alive, but that a soul was well and truly gone. This had never happened before, but at times, it occurred again.

A term rose among the souls of the dead for those who vanished entirely: Survivor.

Not "Immortal," but "Survivor." The Dead knew they were in an immortal cycle, but the Survivors? They had somehow transcended it - somewhere, they were alive, never to die again. The Dead theorized that this could be the ultimate goal of their entire existence. They debated how it could be achieved, and what the disappearance of some souls meant for a finite population.

Was it the ultimate success? Had a Survivor finally lived the perfect life? Were the colors of their Echoes a complete collection? There was no guidance in the realm of the Dead, and the mortal faiths were the subject of ridicule and scorn in the Beforelife.

And in the end, they never knew.

A time came when all the remaining cloaks were filled. They understood that no living beings remained to birth them into the physical realm. Life was complete, so they shared their last stories, and when the final Echo was silent, they were no more.

The Survivors

The Survivors were aptly named by the kin they left behind. They found various ways to break free of the cycle of life and death, but none were easy to return from. By the time any of them tried, they had nothing to return to - their original aeon, its god, and their kin were gone.

Some made their way to a realm that survived even when aeons died. Which realm? Was there more than one? Only the Zushakon know. But in their ghostly forms, some were able to survive these strange environments. After the next aeon began, they found their way into it and were truly able to begin again.

Others followed a strange, almost gravitational pull beyond the boundary of the eternal darkness, across the stars - to Carcosa. Hastur's aeon began and ended before Zushakon's, and its key worlds persevered. Only those who were in tune with the place could arrive at its gates, so the Survivors who did were welcome. They found a new community beneath black stars.

A few escaped through transformation. Rumors say they underwent a "transmutation of the soul," but just what that means, only they know for sure.

One thing about the Survivors is known: They all use the name of their old god - Zushakon - when referring to their people. In this way, their brethren and creator echo in new aeons.

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