It’s said that sun beetles are born in the gap between a photon hitting the earth and that self-same earth warming by a fraction of a fraction of a degree. Their conception is - while not divine - transient and miraculous.

Their carapace carries the fading embers of the star who birthed them, piercing brilliance eroded by distance to warm amber.

In truth, Sol itself was the first sun beetle.

Upon its wing-casings it brought forth the stars, from its excrement the planets coalesced, and when it laid its eggs all life was brought forth.

For a billion years, Sol reigned over the sky, retreating into its burrow each night. But even sun beetles grow old, and now Sol sleeps, its waxing and waning only perceived through the warmth of its descendants and their mundane burrowings.