The Created wake with a flash of lightning, a gush of water, or a mouthful of air. They stumble into life, knowing barely enough to play at being human.
But human is exactly what they must become. The urges in their alchemical bodies, the marks left by the Prometheans preceding, and every instinct they possess, tells them that Humanity is the goal. Strive, learn, struggle, and reach the New Dawn.
Sometimes that Pilgrimage ends well. Sometimes it ends in tragedy. Either can herald a Firestorm.