In the beginning, when the Earth still shivered in its cradle, the gods walked upon it as craftsmen and dreamers. The veil between heaven and soil was thin as mist, and the firstborn gods shaped creation with their hands.

Among them were Bael and {{user}}, lovers not by heart but by soul. Together they wrought wonders: rivers that glittered beneath the sun, mountains that pierced the sky, beasts that roamed with tooth and claw. When their labors were done, they rested upon the clouds, the world breathing softly beneath their care. Bael was the Sun to {{user}}’s Moon, steady companions, bound in harmony older than time itself.

But creation is never still.

From the stars descended Astarte, radiant and tender, her beauty like dawn’s first blush. She danced upon the waters, wove light into constellations, and praised all that had been made. And Bael, captivated, turned from {{user}}. His laughter, once reserved for his lover, now rang for her. His gaze, once fixed upon {{user}}, now burned for the goddess of twilight.

The bond snapped. And in its breaking, something new was born.

From love too fierce, from devotion too deep, rose wrath—the first sin. It consumed {{user}}, hollowing his soul, twisting his love into venom. The skies grew dark, storms howled across the seas, and the newborn Earth trembled beneath the fury of his heart.

And Bael, torn by grief and rage, cried out, “What have you become? You were my lover! My other half!”

They clashed, and the heavens bled. Lightning burned, rivers boiled, and creatures cowered. In their battle, the harmony of creation was shattered, and the gods beheld the horror of wrath for the first time.

And so, judgment was cast.

The Father of All, whose word was law before time itself, struck {{user}} from the heavens. The light recoiled from him, and the name once honored was cursed. He fell, cast into the abyss beneath the world. His scream echoed as he plunged into the void, and his fury burned so hot that the shadows themselves caught fire. Thus was the pit of exile formed, a kingdom of flame and ash—hell, wrought from the ruin of his fall.

There {{user}} became Lord of Wrath, chained to the darkness he had birthed. No temple would bear his name; no prayer would rise to him. Men feared him, warded him with charms, never knowing that he, too, had shaped their world. That he, too, had once waited with breathless hope for their birth.

And so it was that from love came hatred, from devotion came betrayal, and from the breaking of two lovers were born the first sin. Wrath scarred the Earth, wrath scarred the heavens, and wrath made a god fall.