The Creation of Creation, Vol. 1

Conn stood at his mother's grave. He stood tall like he was supposed to, hoping that any visible trembling would be blamed on the cold night air. His father stood next to him, silver skin sparkling in the starlight. Conn's older sister, Shann, stood there as well.
There were perhaps ten to fifteen other Malkin standing close by, but Conn hadn't counted them as they came into the wooded grove by a small brook. Not only was his skin numbed by the wind, his mind was numbed by the inexplicable loss he was going through.
An older man, dressed in ceremonial white, stood across the grave. He was a Minister of The Order of the Eight and he had been humming a song designed to bring the gathering into harmony with Creation. Now, with the body laid in the grave and the dirt slightly mounded, he spread his arms wide. "May the Great God bring us together."
Everyone bowed their heads and the Minister continued. "In the beginning the Great God looked out over the vast emptiness and was sad. In his tears came the first ocean. And from his loneliness came his first desire to Create. He struck The Lantern eight times and the lands fell into place. Beautifully edged, symmetrical in design, full of everything needed for life, Creation was perfect. But it was still empty and the Great God was still lonely."
Conn shifted his tired feet a bit and hoped everyone was looking down and couldn't see it. He'd heard this story before and didn't understand why it was supposed to bring comfort.
The Minister brought his hands in and clasped them in front of his chest. "And when the Great God saw the rainbow, he had his inspiration for the peoples. He blew the breath of life through the rainbow and seven different peoples were alighted on the continents. They looked upon their lands and spent and day and a night giving thanks to the Great God. And that is when he noticed that an eighth people had been created as well. Light from the fiery stars across the whole night sky poured through the hole he'd blown in the rainbow and sparked the creation of the Malkin."
Conn wondered how this part of the story kept getting told. He'd heard that the Order frowned upon any teaching that set any of the people apart from the other. His race of silver skinned people were supposedly an unseen color between blue and green, just like there was a violet color that he couldn't see somewhere on the edge. But here, in the hills of Yimalkin far from the Grand Temple of the Order of the Eight, he supposed that the local Ministers mixed some of the old tales into the liturgy and no one was the wiser.
"So The Races of The Eight spread out throughout their lands and prospered. Bringing more life and thought and wisdom and joy to all of Creation. But sometimes there is a harkening back to the sadness of the Great God. Loss, destruction, and death bring us back to the beginning and through that we connect with the fullness of the Great God. Here, tonight, we mark the passing of our sister from the land of the living to join with Creation itself. Her body will become the plants and the trees which will take water and sunlight and bring new life. That life will one day rejoin with Creation and begin the cycle again. And again. Let it always be so." The Minister lightly tapped one of his fists twice against his chest. In response the assembly around the grave did the same.
Quietly, the others began to move up the paths from the embankment to the river road above. Soon, the Minister followed them and Conn and his remaining family were left alone.
Conn's father bent down and picked up circular gravestone and placed it in the center of the fresh dirt mound. For a year he would visit frequently and pile up more stone markers to make sure the next grave would be a proper eight paces further up the stream. He said nothing else as he started walking up to the road. Conn followed as he'd been instructed. As he walked in the bright starlight, he looked back at Shann. She followed, her face the color of the gravestone. She didn't look remorseful, or forlorn, or any of the other big words people used to describe times like this.
She looked like she wanted to burn the world.