Legends from long ago tell of the first real conflict between humankind. Humans were created by a great being, known as Whitehem. Whitehem was the father of humanity, but also the father of two lesser gods: Redheart and Blueholm. Redheart was a god who thought with everyone’s best intentions in mind, thinking with his heart and following his actions with passion. If one found his human form, they would see a strong young man with piercing red eyes and messy hair that stuck out every which way, like fire caught in the wind. Redheart often spent his time in the god-world playing, creating art and watching human performances. Blueholm, however, was a god who thought with the best outcome in mind. Blueholm thought with his brain, reasoning things through and basing his decisions on cold, hard logic. In human form, Blueholm seemed like opposite to Redheart, for he had deep, blue eyes and smoothed-down hair resembling the calm ocean. Blueholm liked to spend his time reading, learning science the humans had discovered, and studying his father’s creation of the universe.

 The brothers were different, that much was certain. They never got along and always fought, sometimes about little things like insults or who had to do the chores, sometimes they fought about things like which one of them was superior or which one had the right of way over human thinking, but whenever they asked their father who was right, he always said they were created equal, and neither was more important or special than the other.

 One day, the brothers argued over which of them were more important to the humans.

 “Humans need to think.” Blueholm said, “They need to see and understand all our father has given them. See all truth.”

 Redheart laughed, and said, “That will never be as important as what they feel. They need love, anger, sadness, excitement. They don’t need what you think you can offer them!” As the talking turned to shouting, words turning to fists, they eventually settled on asking Father. They marched side by side up to their Whitehem’s study, where he often sat creating new wonders for humanity. Blueholm knocked on the door with a loud bang, while Redheart shouted,

 “Father! Can you let us in?” With no answer, Blueholm shrugged, and Redheart opened the door. The study wasn’t nearly as bright and heartwarming as the world outside it. The god-world, filled with clouds and bright lights, wasn’t visible in this dark room with a single desk. The giant desk sat in the middle of the room, a light shining on a book that was lying open next to a golden pen. The book was unfinished. Neither brothers saw their father in the room, but then Blueholm saw something shiny on the desk. Redheart followed his gaze and ran up to grab the object. Blueholm said in a whisper,

 “Stop! You know Father doesn’t like us playing in here!” Redheart showed Blueholm the object he had grabbed. A strange shining white flute. Redheart and Blueholm were entranced by the artifact. It seemed so otherworldly in this dark room. Redheart and Blueholm ran outside with it, and when Readheart played the flute, it turned a slightly more red color and the humans in the world below them started feeling happier. Redheart looked down from the sky as he was playing a fast, spontaneous melody, and saw the people dancing to his music. Blueholm said,

 “Father always wanted us to share. May I have a turn?” Redheart gave the flute to him. As Blueholm played, the flute turned a blue color. The people’s dancing slowed, and the ones with books began to read as Blueholm played a smooth, relaxing tune. The brothers instantly saw the power this flute had.

 “Give it back!” Redheart shouted as he reached for the flute. Blueholm shoved him away and tried to run, only for Redheart to run after him. The flute gave each of the brothers a power over the people, and whichever one of them held it would surely become more important to humanity. Blueholm looked behind him as he was running, but tripped and fell to the ground. Redheart reached for the flute, and the brothers each struggled and fought over it. Suddenly, they heard a booming voice above them as they wrestled in the clouds,

 “My sons! what have you done?”  Their father pulled them apart from their fighting and reached for his flute. The brothers didn’t understand. What had they done? They both looked down from their cloud to see a horrible sight. The humans below them were hitting each other with clubs and swords, shooting each other with arrows, lighting houses on fire. As the flute tore the brothers apart, the humans were feeling the same way about each other. This was the first battle between humankind. The fighting of brothers started the War of Red and Blue.

 Whitehem played his flute, turning it to a white color. But it was too late. The music could not be heard by humans over the fighting. Damage to the human world had already been done, as humans had discovered they could hurt and kill each other. Whitehem sighed a sad, disappointed sigh. The brothers looked at each other, looks of terror spread across their faces, then stared at the ground, unable to look at their father out of shame. After what had felt like an eternity of trying to calm humanity, Whitehem had given up playing the flute and spoke to his sons.

 “You still don’t understand. You were both sacred. Both of you are important to human nature, neither more than the other. But because you could not understand that, humans have now discovered war, and will use both logic and emotion as an excuse for those wars, now and forever.” The Whitehem snapped the flute and returned to his study, leaving the brothers to sit and think about their actions.