The Eternal Serpent, a creature with no Feet, nor Hips, nor Tum, nor Bosom, was became to be. It never seen a world, but It was Envious from the first moment It saw Joyful and Gorgeous Meora dancing in an anew existence.

The creature was jealous, greedy, selfish, angry… but It was also weak and scared. It cut a hole into perpetual nothingness and hid there. It was hating Meora, and It was hating itself – both for the fact of existence, for it was Its the nature – to hate; and in rage It started to consume oneself. The Serpent was biting and swallowing, yet what was eaten would always grow back. For eternities It was feasting on Its own flesh… until infinitely growing hunger transcendent the fear, and the Serpent crawled out of Its hollow.

It sensed Meora and followed Her trail, salivating with cosmic sludge.

For many star lives It would swim in Her path – always hungry, always envy. The creature, The Alleater, would leave the corruption in tail, consume or twist everything Its descried, as everything was touched by Meora – and that disgusted the Serpent.

It was eating and growing, fearing less with each bite, envy more with each swallow… However, when the creature caught up with Meora near one of stars, It felt the forgotten dread again, and It howled with despair.

That’s when Meora herself saw the Serpent for the first time. In Her eyes It was crying, and so She felt pity. She approached and touched the creature without fear, wondering what pains It… in this touch The Envious felt warm love, but The Joyful felt only cold madness and evilness. Too in that close moment the creature finally understood what It always wanted to taste – It wanted that love, all of its warmness… Every. Single. Drip… and so It attacked.


For eons they would fight. Inside boundless nebulas until new life is formed and through shadows of singularities until they stop spinning.

The Serpent was vast, coarse and blunt – grown up from a life of no imagination, gorging on what was already created. It would try to devour with its maw, rake with Its teeth and entangle in Its roots. However Meora was faster, elusive and clever.

In the beginning Meora was hesitant to even hurt the creature and avoided Its every charge and swing, running away from It when Its tired. Yet, after ages of fleeing and hiding, She inevitably forced herself to fight and end the Alleater. And She felt deep sadness after seeing It dead. Even centuries later after leaving Its carcass behind She would sorrow – both for Its death and for Its killing… until It was dead no more…

The Serpent would follow Her again, and their fight would repeat, and then She would kill It again… and again… and many times more. Yet every time She slay the Serpent – It would live, as the Serpent was Eternal… though Meora was not.

The Serpent was not able kill Meora in one life, but It has infinity. It would bite, die and live anew; unlike Meora who would bear Her scars and wounds forever… Her smoldering wings, Her crumbling horns, Her broken arms, Her scarred body and a lost eye. They both could feel how She is getting weaker, slower. The Serpent was laughing. It was laughing louder with each death, and that laugh was snuffing out stars across galaxies.

Realizing the inevitable Joyful Meora would kill the creature one more time.


When it was a new age of calamity, when the Serpent was lifeless again, Meora dragged Its carcass to the nearest star. She made a crack in one barren dead planet and tossed the creature in its core. For sixty nine more days she was walking on the surface, coating land meticulously with Her stardust tail and hair, entombing the Enemy of All withing.

After sixty nine days, tired and wounded, She collapsed. Seven of Her arms shatter into the sky, feather from Her broken wings followed them, Her noble crown and cosmic mask cracked. Her skin dried out and fissured… A death – a concept Meora understood, but never expected for herself in all of visioned existences.

And so She accepted the end.

And so She breathed eight last times.

Her first breath was deep, like a veil it wrapped the planet – for us to breath.

On Her second breath She cried from pain, and Her tears made oceans and seas for us to venture, rivers and lakes for us to drink.

During Her third breath, from wounds on Her flesh, roots and trees and flowers grew, for us to harvest.

Her fourth breath gave life to creatures of sky and land and water, for us to feast.

On Her fifth breath our ancestor come forth from Her womb, perfected in Her image – in body and spirit.

On Her sixth breath She gave us knowledges and Gifts of Creation, for us to proceed.

On Her seventh breath she said farewell… and so we cry.

Her eighth breath was the last… It was for herself – to rest for once.

And so, Joyful and Gorgeous Meora… …our Allmother… …was…

And so… the Age of Crumbling begun…