Stop me if you've heard this one before... actually, don't. You probably already have, you just don't know it yet. It's one of the oldest tales, maybe the oldest, but... ah, I'm getting ahead of myself here.
Once there were twelve children playing in the sand, on a beach. Siblings, all of them, though whether they still had parents or not, whether they were adopted, well, time simply doesn't relate. Good kids, all, though every now and again they'd get into a squabble, just as kids are wont to do. Some were thick as thieves, some were a bit standoffish... well, you got all types when you look at a family of twelve kids.
One day they decided to build a sand castle. Not just any sand castle, but the biggest, shiniest, most intricate sand castle they ever could. Of course, it'd take all twelve of 'em to build it, they reasoned, working together. And so they did. One of 'em built the foundation, packing the sand into a dense rock that everything could be built on. One watered the sand to help it stick, one blew away the packed dirt to form crenellations and more, and one used their heat to give it a nice sheen.
'Course, that was only four. Two of them, pair of twins, used their light and darkness to give it a nice impression, showing off the occasional grain like works of art, giving shadows where needed, brightening things up here and there. Four others made figurines, but like no figurines you've ever seen: they had their own thoughts and emotions, and marched through the castle like it was a play, occasionally living, occasionally, well, ahem, and, yes, occasionally dying, because these are kids, and what's the fun of a play if someone doesn't get a sword through their chest now and then, right?
And the other two, well, sometimes they'd take a bit of the sand castle away, and sometimes they'd add on new ones, and sometimes they'd do nothing more than watch. Every good play needs an audience. They'd mark the passing of hours, and there were ever so many of them.
For a while, there, it was good. Great, even. It was the tallest, grandest, shiniest little sand castle that any of the twelve kids had ever made, and it was a brilliant little thing. But... every kid knows, when you build up a sand castle like that, sooner or later, the tide comes in. And they were fine with that - they were old enough to know that impermanence, too, is part of life, and all things do crumble away in the end. They could always build another, after all. That, too, is a pretty big part of life.
You know where else this is going, though. When you get a pack of kids building things like that, sooner or later, a bully's going to wander through, kicking things to dust, time and again. Not for any reason - just because they can. The ones who'll spark arguments just because they figure it's a neat idea. The ones... well. You know the type. And you probably already know what happened next.
Everyone's got a variant of this story. See what I mean? You already knew it. The gryphons have got one, the ponies, the minotaurs, the zebra, the camels, the cats, the dogs... there are a million variants under Sun and Moon and Stars, and there'll be a million more in the future. Everyone writes one. Heck, you've probably got one of your very own.
Some are a little closer to the truth than others. Who knows? Maybe this is one of them.
But take it with a grain of salt, my companion, a very large grain indeed. Or, perhaps, a grain of sand...