The Fable of the Fire That Gives Being: A Tale of Creation and Justice
A World Before the World
There was a time, in the eternity before time, when nothing suffered, laughed, or thought. There were no stars or darkness, no above or below, no form and no name. And yet, within that quiet abyss, something was awake. A Fire, still and conscious, held within itself the memory of everything that had not yet come to be. This Fire was not anger, nor whim, nor hunger. It was justice without judgment, goodness without audience, truth without words. It lacked nothing, yet it burned with a desire that had no name.
One day – if such a word can be used – it decided to create. Not for amusement. Not to fill a void. But because a question, pure and immense, rose within it like a wave that could not be held back: “Can the good that I am be shared without causing harm?”
The First Furnace
It breathed upon non-being, and existence emerged. Not one, but myriads. Free spirits, still untouched by choice. They did not see the Fire. It had veiled itself deliberately, so that their love could be real. For loving what is obvious is not love. Out of justice, the Fire had stepped back, leaving a space between its hand and the newborn souls. Their steps had to be truly theirs.
But this retreat of the Fire had a terrible consequence: coldness. Where the Fire does not appear, doubt sets in. And with doubt came fear, fault, and failure. The spirits fell, faltered, sometimes shattered. And the question returned, sharper still: “Was it just to let them choose, at the cost of their fall?”
The Three Silent Counselors
So the Fire summoned its Three Silent Counselors, born of its own heart: Justice, Healing, and Benevolence. Each held a key. But none could open all doors.
Justice spoke first
“No one may wish for another what they would refuse for themselves. Whoever welcomed the birth of another without weighing the burden of life has already endorsed the fairness of their own. To create is not to impose, it is to reciprocate. Let each enter the world by the law they once, knowingly or not, agreed to. The fire you passed on was already desired.”
But the Fire asked, “And what of those who suffer without ever having consented?”
Justice lowered her gaze. “If they consented to nothing, then their pain must be strictly proportionate and truly instructive. Otherwise, it insults me.”
Healing stepped forward
“I require neither merit nor prior guilt. I see spirits as lands to be restored. To create is to give a chance to what was incomplete. Every fall, every flaw can be healed. But only if the trial does not crush. If it reveals the true will within the struggle. Otherwise, it is no longer purification, but demolition.”
The Fire asked, “And if the soul does not heal?”
Healing replied, “Then the pain must cease. No suffering should continue if it corrects nothing. The irreversible is the enemy of my work.”
Finally, Benevolence approached
“To create is to offer. To give a world, a breath, a song. I ask for nothing. But I ensure that every harm is compensated, every tear acknowledged, every injustice made right. Maybe not immediately, but within a wider harmony. If even one creature remains wounded beyond repair, then my benevolence is a lie.”
The Fire asked, “And if this world wounds too much?”
Benevolence answered, “Then more veiling was needed. Or a bit more light. Too much light turns virtue into strategy. Too much shadow dissolves responsibility. The invisible must be measured.”
The Pact of the Four
The Fire listened. Long and deep. Then it spoke: “I cannot choose only one path. Justice speaks true. Healing speaks true. And you, Benevolence, you speak true. But each voice demands infinite rigor. Every unjust pain destroys justice. Every excessive trial undermines healing. Every gratuitous harm invalidates love.”
So it carved into the substance of the world four eternal laws:
- No suffering may be gratuitous
- No trial may exceed the weight of fault or necessity
- The veil must be measured, to protect freedom without erasing truth
- Every undeserved wound must be repaired with exact and visible precision
The Trial of Silence
And the Fire withdrew, while still remaining. Invisible, yet real. Watchful, yet silent. It observed births, falls, and rebirths. Some cursed it. Others forgot it. A few, through the fog, thought they glimpsed a flicker. They did not know if they had imagined the light, or if it was answering them.
One day, a soul, alone on the edge of an abyss, cried out: “Why did you create me?” And in that cry, there was more honesty than in a thousand prayers. Then the Fire whispered back: “Because you once desired it. Because you can be healed. Because I will make it right. Because I love you. But you will have to doubt it. Otherwise, your choice will not be yours.”
The Fire Still Watches
And even now, the Fire watches. Every unjust tear calls to it. Every injustice wounds it. It waits not for worship, but for understanding. Not the kind that explains away suffering, but the kind that asks why the world has not yet been undone. For if the world endures, it is because the Fire knows what it holds in store for those who still hope. Not a forced paradise. But an exact justice. A complete healing. A joy that is built on no one’s ruin.
But if, one day, these conditions are not met, then silence is better than prayer. For God, if He is, deserves praise only if Creation, too, can be called good. Not in illusion. But in the truth of what is.