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Neither boy remembered exactly what happened. They could only piece together little bits and pieces of what occurred that night. The boys would spend hours lying on the roof of one of their castles or a lonely hilltop, staring at the stars, trying to make sense of what, who, why. All they could really know for sure is that they were one, a whole, a something before.
And then they weren’t.
There was a light and suddenly they were as they are now. Two little boys, both claiming to be Creativity. Two little boys who instantly claimed each other as brothers. They both made fabulous things in their little realm. Two blood brothers who spent their days and nights wielding swords, dueling each other, besting monsters until they fell beside each other knowing they were safe with the other. Two young brothers exploring the world, roaming the lands, running till the ends of the earth and chasing the horizon, knowing they’d be together forever.
And then they weren’t.
They can barely remember those times now. A vague memory sometimes, of another sometime when times and time were different. They boys had been separated suddenly, taken to another place, and told that his brother was different and that was bad. As they grew older they came to agree with their newfound family. Living apart only reinforced the separation in their minds, and soon neither of them remembered much of their childhood playmate. It had always been like this. Green and Red. Black and White. Good and Evil. Completely separate.
And then it wasn’t.