Creation of Elthessera
The Creation myth, as told by mortals on Seari
Ravid, the first sylf of Chaos, watched as the first sphere created by the Five Great Sylfaodolon matured. He observed the trees, the water, the animals, saw all perfect, saw nothing out of place. How boring. Repetitive. His nature called for transition and fluctuation, imperfection. Darkness.
The Earth Mother had hailed each sylf upon their creation, told them to find their way. Told them to explore, that the answers to their questions would present themselves. How could he, when the entire sphere scraped against his new-found nature?
His was not the only desire for darkness. Others gathered about him, longing for a sphere less enchanting, less scintillating. Less flawless. His most ardent follower, the first created, the first to burst into life and eagerly explore, warned him that the Great Sylfaodolon did not see the necessity of opposites, of darkness. If he planned to impeach upon their vision, he must do so carefully, away from the Keeper of Knowledge. She would find fault in his want and act against him.
Ravid met with others in secret, in the dark places, away from the Light of Lumin Illu and the other sylfaodolon who saw the Mother as their guide. They plotted against the flawless, but they knew they needed the powerful syflaodolon as supporters to make their yearned-for changes. Many suggested Glestik, the first warsylf, primed for battle and violence. He was flawed enough, Chaos thought, to make an exceptional adherent. The want for his support became an obsession, and Ravid sent courier after courier to the sylf. Glestik refused them all, unimpressed with their pleas. Ravid decided to personally convince him of his yearnings' worth. He visited the small hut the warsylf lived in, so eager to gain Glestik's support he could taste it, sweet and luscious, on his tongue. Glestik did not care, whether Ravid personally spoke with him. He had no interest in the flawed darkness, and threw Chaos from his door and into the sunlight. Furious at the undignified dismissal, Ravid stormed away, his previous obsessive desire turning into abnormal hate. When he witnessed Glestik's lover sitting by the river, basking in the sunlight's touch, he went berserk. He snatched the man away and took him to the deepest, darkest cave, and chained him to the stone floor there. He then returned to the warsylf. "If you wish your lover returned to your embrace, you will follow us into darkness," he declared. Fury lit Glestik, intense and morbid. He chased Ravid, who ran, heart pounding, head throbbing under the ire. He led him to the caves of secret meetings, and the warsylf rent them apart, destroying stone and sylf and all that stood between him and his love. Chaos grinned wide. Such a beautiful display. Such violence. Such power. Other sylfaodolon attempted to stop him, still others came to help him, but Ravid remained in the shadows, delighting in the destruction. The warsylf cracked the earth to reach his love. The sphere destabalized, trembled, and fell apart, collapsing upon itself. Sylf and creature died, none able to stand the wrath of war, but for a few sylfaodolon who hid with Ceaque and weathered the storm within his protection.
The Mother watched her sphere die. The Mother felt the stirrings of deep, dark anger, blacker than what Chaos imagined, the fiery fury of a volcanic eruption mixed with the endless void. She raced into Glestik's wake, her rage absolute. She struck the remains of the sphere, and all broke under her violence. The Mother raised a hand to obliterate the remaining fragments. Ceaque gathered them within his embrace and cradled them to his heart. "You are of Earth," he said, his voice soft as rainfall, his words sharp as obsidian. "Soft soils and cracked shells. Wet sands and racing lava. All can create, but all can destroy. Do you create or destroy?" The Mother paused, before she lowered her hand. She knew, as he did, that she was a being of creation, not destruction. She had forgotten herself. Behind him, one sylf smiled at the admittance. He turned and regarded her with cold eyes glittering with a thousand stars, and she shrank from him. "You are a poison to all you touch," he told the first created. "No!" she denied. "And do you mourn for those lost? Chaos believed himself your lover. Is his sacrifice enough to quench your thirst for blood?" "The blood drips from her fingers, not mine!" the first created screamed, pointing at her creator. She snarled in derision. "For all her care, she created wrong, and now we pay for her sin." The Mother recoiled at the unexpected attack. Ceaque raised his hand, to smite the first, but Earth grabbed it and refused to release his fingers. "No. By right, it is my worry, mine to care for." "You've not cared until now," the first created shrieked bitterly. "You left us to wander, lost. You ignored us and we wallowed in ignorance. You saw us as inconsequential. Do you still?" she asked, flinging her hand towards the shattered sphere. Ceaque cast his eyes on her and she fled, as far from the cold and unmoved as she could, but she remained trapped within the space the Great Sylf had protected. She, of the sphere, not transcendent, could not leave its destruction. Lumin Illu, second created, Mother of a Thousand Sylfaodolon, looked down at her older sister, cowering against her restraints. "To wander is precursor to discovery. Simply because you could not discover yourself, does not mean I never did. You sacrificed all others because you misunderstood the lessons." The first gritted her teeth, as loud as thunder, but the second remained unswayed. The Earth Mother, Ceaque, the Keeper of Knowledge, the Master of Beasts, the Lord of Plants, they mourned the sphere. They mourned the beings lost, the lands and soils and plants they carefully created and structured. They mourned their ignorance, and vowed recompense.
And they created another sphere. Ceaque made twilight from the remains of the first, and the Mother created the sunlit realm as companion to it. The Keeper of Knowledge formed Arberiss, a soft and sensuous realm for the sylfaodolon, a place of Elthessera but not within it, a place that would not be so easily destroyed as the first sphere. Ceaque took the essences of the once-sylfaodolon and created the Nine Abysses, molding them into magickal wells that would feed the gifted. The Mother, full of guilt, chose to populate the new sphere with beings other than the sylfaodolon who betrayed her vision. She created the dragons, who lived in ice and cold, who were wed to the new sphere like sylfaodolon are wed to their natures. She began with five, and they formed the Five Families. They became helpmates and confidants, eager to work with the Five Great Sylfaodolon, in contrast to the previous sylf plots and underminings. But dragons did not fill the sphere. So the Mother created humans, her last gift, before she withdrew and allowed the Master of Beasts and the Lord of Plants, the Keeper of Knowledge and Lumin Illu to populate the sphere with other beings. Humans carried the love she wished to instill in her second sphere, but they also held the darkness for which Chaos died to create. The Mother realized, as did the other Great Sylfaodolon, that their perfection was illusory, and only by acknowledging the darkness below the light, would they avoid a similar catastrophe. Ceaque chose to keep the Mother company. His final gift was the twilight mists, softer and quieter than twilight, a place of in between. The Keeper of Knowledge straddled both, as Record Keeper and advice-giver. The Master of Beasts, the Lord of Plants, and the Mother of a Thousand Sylfaodolon, Lumin Illu, chose to continue to create, to fill the sphere will life. Others followed their lead, all but for the first, who huddled into herself, vowing vengeance against those who willingly followed the Mother, who did not see the first as their guide. Ceaque cast her one look before retreating, a look of darkness without stars. "And why do you cower, without Chaos at your side?" And she knew, those who willingly followed the Mother would never serve her, for her sacrifice was selfishly not her own. Elthessera was born. It was as it should be. And it has lasted, far beyond the first.
Ravid met with others in secret, in the dark places, away from the Light of Lumin Illu and the other sylfaodolon who saw the Mother as their guide. They plotted against the flawless, but they knew they needed the powerful syflaodolon as supporters to make their yearned-for changes. Many suggested Glestik, the first warsylf, primed for battle and violence. He was flawed enough, Chaos thought, to make an exceptional adherent. The want for his support became an obsession, and Ravid sent courier after courier to the sylf. Glestik refused them all, unimpressed with their pleas. Ravid decided to personally convince him of his yearnings' worth. He visited the small hut the warsylf lived in, so eager to gain Glestik's support he could taste it, sweet and luscious, on his tongue. Glestik did not care, whether Ravid personally spoke with him. He had no interest in the flawed darkness, and threw Chaos from his door and into the sunlight. Furious at the undignified dismissal, Ravid stormed away, his previous obsessive desire turning into abnormal hate. When he witnessed Glestik's lover sitting by the river, basking in the sunlight's touch, he went berserk. He snatched the man away and took him to the deepest, darkest cave, and chained him to the stone floor there. He then returned to the warsylf. "If you wish your lover returned to your embrace, you will follow us into darkness," he declared. Fury lit Glestik, intense and morbid. He chased Ravid, who ran, heart pounding, head throbbing under the ire. He led him to the caves of secret meetings, and the warsylf rent them apart, destroying stone and sylf and all that stood between him and his love. Chaos grinned wide. Such a beautiful display. Such violence. Such power. Other sylfaodolon attempted to stop him, still others came to help him, but Ravid remained in the shadows, delighting in the destruction. The warsylf cracked the earth to reach his love. The sphere destabalized, trembled, and fell apart, collapsing upon itself. Sylf and creature died, none able to stand the wrath of war, but for a few sylfaodolon who hid with Ceaque and weathered the storm within his protection.
The Mother watched her sphere die. The Mother felt the stirrings of deep, dark anger, blacker than what Chaos imagined, the fiery fury of a volcanic eruption mixed with the endless void. She raced into Glestik's wake, her rage absolute. She struck the remains of the sphere, and all broke under her violence. The Mother raised a hand to obliterate the remaining fragments. Ceaque gathered them within his embrace and cradled them to his heart. "You are of Earth," he said, his voice soft as rainfall, his words sharp as obsidian. "Soft soils and cracked shells. Wet sands and racing lava. All can create, but all can destroy. Do you create or destroy?" The Mother paused, before she lowered her hand. She knew, as he did, that she was a being of creation, not destruction. She had forgotten herself. Behind him, one sylf smiled at the admittance. He turned and regarded her with cold eyes glittering with a thousand stars, and she shrank from him. "You are a poison to all you touch," he told the first created. "No!" she denied. "And do you mourn for those lost? Chaos believed himself your lover. Is his sacrifice enough to quench your thirst for blood?" "The blood drips from her fingers, not mine!" the first created screamed, pointing at her creator. She snarled in derision. "For all her care, she created wrong, and now we pay for her sin." The Mother recoiled at the unexpected attack. Ceaque raised his hand, to smite the first, but Earth grabbed it and refused to release his fingers. "No. By right, it is my worry, mine to care for." "You've not cared until now," the first created shrieked bitterly. "You left us to wander, lost. You ignored us and we wallowed in ignorance. You saw us as inconsequential. Do you still?" she asked, flinging her hand towards the shattered sphere. Ceaque cast his eyes on her and she fled, as far from the cold and unmoved as she could, but she remained trapped within the space the Great Sylf had protected. She, of the sphere, not transcendent, could not leave its destruction. Lumin Illu, second created, Mother of a Thousand Sylfaodolon, looked down at her older sister, cowering against her restraints. "To wander is precursor to discovery. Simply because you could not discover yourself, does not mean I never did. You sacrificed all others because you misunderstood the lessons." The first gritted her teeth, as loud as thunder, but the second remained unswayed. The Earth Mother, Ceaque, the Keeper of Knowledge, the Master of Beasts, the Lord of Plants, they mourned the sphere. They mourned the beings lost, the lands and soils and plants they carefully created and structured. They mourned their ignorance, and vowed recompense.
And they created another sphere. Ceaque made twilight from the remains of the first, and the Mother created the sunlit realm as companion to it. The Keeper of Knowledge formed Arberiss, a soft and sensuous realm for the sylfaodolon, a place of Elthessera but not within it, a place that would not be so easily destroyed as the first sphere. Ceaque took the essences of the once-sylfaodolon and created the Nine Abysses, molding them into magickal wells that would feed the gifted. The Mother, full of guilt, chose to populate the new sphere with beings other than the sylfaodolon who betrayed her vision. She created the dragons, who lived in ice and cold, who were wed to the new sphere like sylfaodolon are wed to their natures. She began with five, and they formed the Five Families. They became helpmates and confidants, eager to work with the Five Great Sylfaodolon, in contrast to the previous sylf plots and underminings. But dragons did not fill the sphere. So the Mother created humans, her last gift, before she withdrew and allowed the Master of Beasts and the Lord of Plants, the Keeper of Knowledge and Lumin Illu to populate the sphere with other beings. Humans carried the love she wished to instill in her second sphere, but they also held the darkness for which Chaos died to create. The Mother realized, as did the other Great Sylfaodolon, that their perfection was illusory, and only by acknowledging the darkness below the light, would they avoid a similar catastrophe. Ceaque chose to keep the Mother company. His final gift was the twilight mists, softer and quieter than twilight, a place of in between. The Keeper of Knowledge straddled both, as Record Keeper and advice-giver. The Master of Beasts, the Lord of Plants, and the Mother of a Thousand Sylfaodolon, Lumin Illu, chose to continue to create, to fill the sphere will life. Others followed their lead, all but for the first, who huddled into herself, vowing vengeance against those who willingly followed the Mother, who did not see the first as their guide. Ceaque cast her one look before retreating, a look of darkness without stars. "And why do you cower, without Chaos at your side?" And she knew, those who willingly followed the Mother would never serve her, for her sacrifice was selfishly not her own. Elthessera was born. It was as it should be. And it has lasted, far beyond the first.
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