The following is relayed by the Void Walker Tzukhan’ihl’peyel, the Void Chronicler.
Buhukiea is Tyra Kolaq’blegae.
Buhukiea is the Netherworlds.
Buhukiea is Eden.
Buhukiea is Mysidia.
Buhukiea is also the Void.
The Void is not nothing—the Void is space between the bastions of space. Buhukiea is not a singular dimension, it is many dimensions, and in between these shifting domains is the Void.
And in the Void is us. We who walk it, we who understand it. It is akin to nothing and yet is everything. For we are observers of all, beyond it all, and yet totally of it.
We exist outside of dimensions, but are able to look into each.
I stand on the edge of Eden, its rippling perimeter stretching out before me. I perceive the substance that lines it. I perceive the myriad of colors that comprise shapes and beings within it.
Time and space blurs inside of it, but I am outside of it, looking in.
I chronicle what I see. That is my charge, my impulse. I am not the great Recorder, I am merely a scribe of impressions. I do not interact except to watch. There are others of my ilk that interact in other ways—sharing things that ought not to be, giving powers beyond the constraints of dimensions, or dominating and molding what is not of us.
But we are all of Catasore. That is our commonality. All of Buhukiea are of Catasore, but we walk alone amongst her creations, alone in the Void of her make. It is a blessing that cannot be understood to exist in such a pure state of being.
Perhaps we are more akin to the Bothania than to the rest of Buhukiea. Existing on the frontier of existence—nothing but the barest of concepts. It is we who are closest to Bothania itself, anyway. The gate to Bothania is connected to Buhukiea at the edge of its void, after all.
There are those more interested in that than I. I see no need to explore other realms of creation when this one is interesting enough.
Angels fighting each other due to color and shape. Demons doing the same. Those of Tyra Kolaq’blegae—any reason is a good reason for them to fight. That is all their nature.
Such things are not in any of our nature. We are too ephemeral and few to bother going to war with each other. And for what? There is existent nothing for us here. This near-nothing is our domain and thus there is near-nothing to stake out and claim here.
So we look elsewhere.
We always look elsewhere.
Elsewhere even though everywhere is Dialona and we can see everywhere. Walking in the spaces of all, we can see all that we can become. So often we become one with all totally or just dip into some of the all. I partake by observation and I have no intent in becoming one with the all just yet.
There is ever so much out there—not here in the Void, though. Nothing is more than can be understood, and yet we are closest to it and still impossibly far from it. Only the Trioré understand in truth.
But we understand the next best thing—the Void.
I imagine, however, that those who have no idea of the Void, wish to understand it completely. To understand it, you must understand only a tenuous lack. The concept of it made concrete and stretchy. That is the Void—that is something akin to the Void.
And that is all there is except for us, its walkers. In the Void, we are and no one else is. And that is how it ought to be. Without all the dimensions and all those within it, Buhukiea could not be what it is. And Buhukiea cannot be at all without the Void and thus us.
We are the something in the nothing that is something.
That is how it is.