Before the beginning, there was nothing, a vast and immeasurable gap. At some point, it had to be that six beings emerged from the gap. There was a large one, a heavy one, a quick one, a bright one, a long one, and an active one. At first the six beings only knew themselves and their own quality, but they soon came in contact with each other and learned there were other beings. They each thought that the other things were also large, or heavy or quick or bright or long or active like they were, and they could not even make out the differences between them, because all they knew was their own way. But it was realized, and they were surprised to find out that they all had different qualities.
There was sadness among them that the qualities they had were all distinct, and there was nothing shared. So they resolved to make something which was common to them all. The large one offered up themselves, for they took up space in the gap, and could be distinguished from it. So each resolved to put something within the space of the large one that was of their own.
First the large one gave a part of themselves to the space, and it was filled with objects of all shapes and sizes. And so the space that was not filled came to be empty. Next the quick one gave a part of themselves to the space, and the objects began to change position. And so the objects began to displace empty space, and the empty space displaced the objects. Then the bright one gave a part of themselves to the space, and energized the movement of the objects. And so the energy moved across the space, and filled it with light. Then the long one gave a part of themselves to the space, and the movement and light happened not all at once, but in a process. And so there was a before and after in the space, and the displacement was observed. Lastly the active one gave a part of themselves to the space, and put in a portion of the objects the potential for growth. And so the space was self-sustaining and became unpredictable. Being in this way filled with the qualities of all the other beings, the large one grew so as to fill up the gap, as much as it could be said this is possible, or is still in the process of doing so.
They were amazed and went into the space, engaging in all their various qualities together. There was something of every possible shape and size and configuration, and all the moments of time were laid out in front of them. They thought it was perfect, and decided together to let the processes of the space continue uninhibited, as it belonged to all of them together and none of them alone. In this way they played together for an unknown period, or still are.
When it began all the different qualities were in equal proportion in the space. But that which the active provided, what is said to be life, struggled to find its footing in the space. Countless times the active one sent out growth on comets or placed them among the rocks, but not once did they continue to develop, until after many tries the active one found a place where energy and light and space were all in accordance, and it grew rapidly. Still, it was very small, and the active one closely watched its change.
Soon life had covered the surface of its place. It grew on the waters, and then on the land, and later in the air. It became more complex and at many points the active one thought it would fail to continue, but it always flourished. The active one loved all this growth, which had once been a part of them.
There was a moment when life was threatened by the circumstances of motion, when the rock on which life rested was struck by another. This cataclysm threatened to undo all of the possibility of life, which the active one could not bear. The active one left the place and returned to the gap, and without the other five beings knowing they took another piece from them and brought it back into the space. This the active one gave to life in the form of fire.
Life's eyes were glistening and for the first time each life saw the active one. They recovered with ingenuity and soon came into the form that is now known, of humans and the other creatures of earth. While they could see the active one, it was only through the reflection of their eyes, and they did not know how to make sense of it. So they learned to see the active one as like them, as a mother and as Ino.
Ino whispered to them, and told them about the making of the place, and the other beings who made it with her. While the others were playing she lit up the eyes of man and the other creatures of earth. They were seen in the stories and in the minds of men as an image of themselves. She described the large one, which men saw as Fil, holding them in her chest. She described the heavy one, which men saw as Tet, who poured their forms. She described the quick one, which men saw as Ran, stirring their spirits with his arms. She described the bright one, which men saw as Eso, blinding their eyes. She described the long one, which men saw as a father and as Uro, companion of their beloved Ino. After Ino had finished her story the men went to sleep, but with their eyes closed they still blurrily saw the story of the six titans she had told them.
It was Ran who saw what Ino had done. From behind the orbits of planets he saw her whispering, and after it was done pointed and made the other titans aware. In no time they all knew about the life cultivated by Ino, and how she had given them more. They held counsel on this, for by Uro it was seen as a breach of their agreement to interfere in the space, as Ino had helped life avoid the effects of the others' parts. Ino pleaded with the other titans, but their hearts could not be swayed. Uro announced that they would take back the gift of fire which Ino had given life, and return them to how they were before she had intervened. And Uro took a great sword to cut it from men, and Eso a brilliant star to burn it away, and Tet hands to reduce it, it might be said.
Ino took her chance to go to earth, and warn humanity of what the other gods would come to do. There was mass panic, and animals and men fought and ran as if there were a great fire. But humankind was clever, and gathered all the creatures together to build three towering figures in the shape of men, one of straw, one of leaves, and one of clay. Then they were lit with the fire of Ino and took the terrible form of those beings feared by men, the gods. The straw turned into Pheno, the bearded sage, and the leaves into Ethra, the hooded, and the clay into Dihan, the long haired warrior. They were surrounded on all sides by the fire and humanity danced beside it, asking the young gods to defend them against the old titans.
But these gods were just shadows, and their image flickered in the flames. So Ino took them in her eye and brought them to the very edge of Fil, where it was hard to separate what was space and what was not. On the skin of Fil there was sweat, a drop of which was like an ocean to the gods. The gods took it back to earth, and laid it in a deep recess, and mixed it with offerings brought by humans. Pheno took charge of the process, and put Dihan in charge of receiving the gift of humans and Ethra in charge of stirring the vast ocean. When the gods drank from the ocean, they finally became real in the world, transcendent like the old titans yet transformative like life. And they grew drunk and lapped up the entire ocean, filling with vitality. Even with this boon, and the force of life on their side, they were not an even match for the titans. So Pheno devised a plan to lie in wait in a fold of the space, and strike the titans when their guard was down.
When the titans arrived at earth, they were surprised that there was no resistance, for Uro had clearly seen it come to pass. He did not waste time, but raised his sword against the planet to cut it in two. At the apex of his strike, the three gods leapt out and bound the arms and legs of the titans together. When bonds came down on the wrist of Eso, the titan screamed, and broke the silence of the place. So as to ensure earth would stay protected, they exiled the titans from the body of Fil, never to return. In fairness Ino too took her leave, handing over care of life to the three young gods. So it was that life triumphed over the brute fact.
The three gods, victorious in their battle, turned back towards the earth which they watched over. So as to best protect it, they divided the work into three parts for each of the gods. Pheno took on what was real and visible, Dihan what was real but not visible, and Ethra all that was unreal.
With the father over the place now gone, it came to be that humanity was fully affected by time and began to age and die. When they passed on, there was nowhere for all their thoughts to go, and they began to gather in the atmosphere, forming many vicious spirits. For it is the case that a mass of human consideration brings into being all the spirits, which are like the unproductive childhood of the gods.
The spirits were taking the form of dragons and causing terror among humanity, so the gods gathered to see what could be done about them. Ethra took it upon themselves to try and bring peace to the minds of humanity, and went up to where the air was thin, and spoke to the most mighty of the spirits, the great dragon Ceribaru, making clear the hearts and tone of all of humanity in asking the spirits to leave the earth. And if the spirits did not assent the god promised to use force upon them on behalf of the humans. To this Ceribaru agreed, on the condition that Ethra laid with the great dragon upon their arrival to their new home.
When the spirits left, Ethra traveled with them so they would not get lost in the disparate universe. They moved beyond the reach of the sun, out into distant galaxies and past burning stars. The spirits found an agreeable planet not too far away, but within minutes it became apparent that the atmosphere was too thin, and they could not swim through the sky. Next they tried a gas giant, but it was thick and miasmatic, slowing down the spirits. They went on and on, but each place was unsatisfactory and quiet. Within thirty years of travel they had found no suitable place to roost. When they were out of ideas, the spirits got bitter and wanted to return back to the earth, protesting loudly against their forced travel. Ethra was quick to placate the spirits, but had no plan of their own and could not calm the worry in their own heart. Seeing no other option, Ethra slipped away from the spirits and went entirely out of space, up to the front of the face of Fil. Ethra begged Fil to grant the spirits a new place to be safe and satisfied. Because Ethra was the favorite god of Fil, she opened her mind and granted Ethra dominion over a new place nestled in her head. Ethra made it bright and unified, without the separation of the spatial world of Fil's body.
Ethra returned to the spirits and led them up through the neck of Fil into the new domain, an arduous journey which took uncountable years. They all followed the gray light of Ethra, never looking back at what they had left behind. Parts of them sloughed off back into the universe, merging with distant stars. When they at last made it to the head, they all saw the goodness of the place Ethra had made and rejoiced. None were separated but made part of each other and everything, playing and being part of the whole of thought. It was bright and beautiful, pouring out.
Holding back from entering was Ceribaru, who waited on Ethra to fulfill their initial promise. So they went to a distant cloud, and took it as their bed, wrapping the moisture all around them in order to hide themselves from view. There they stayed for three days before their union birthed the godly child Teuri. When the child was born it was a bright baby boy, crying for its parents. At the next glance it was an old crone, then a bearded man and then a beautiful young woman. So indecisive was Teuri that no appearance could be said with certainty to belong to her, for he was a transitory god.
Teuri was raised in the unity of Fil's head, but was alone too disjunct to be fully there. Her adventurous spirit made him long for a taste of life. So she ventured back through the neck towards earth, making the trip in just three short days. On earth, he noticed that the skies were once again filled with spirits, and was shocked. Humans had not stopped their endless thinking, but had in fact increased it in their better conditions. She went to bring more spirits back to Fil's head, but they were more fearsome than ever and snapped at his offered hand. Seeing that the tide could not be quelled, Teuri decided that she would take only the most wise and pure of the thoughts back with him to Fil's head, and the rest she returned back to the earth to be born again and continue to learn. So it was that a cycle of reincarnation was made under Teuri, and that Ethra watched over the place where those well lived beings became unified. But even the watchful gods could not stop some spirits from slipping into the world of humans.
At this time humanity walked slowly over the face of the earth, finding their meals in bushes and on the hunt. They lived in tribes of no more than two hundred, barely sustained by the yield of the ground and the flesh of animals. The spirits of this time were in the things which were common to all humans, which were seen and thought about by all. So the stars in the sky and the rocky features of the earth were inhabited by spirits. Dihan, looking upon the earth, was curious about these manifestations, and so in the day she went to the spirit on the face of the sun and laid with her, and in the night went to the spirit on the face of the moon and laid with him. So the god conceived and went down to walk on the surface of the earth for the course of her pregnancy.
Dihan wandered through thick forests for several months, watching the lives of the many species of animals, ones who made nests and ones who wandered. Many paces from her point of origin, the god came to a fight between two humans, Iason and Ascena, the chiefs of two roving tribes. The god split the two apart, but even still there was animosity between them. They glared and shouted and could find no other way of resolving their troubles. So Dihan opened their mouths and gave them names for the things around them, as they had given names to themselves and others. And Dihan asked them: “Why are you fighting? What quarrel brings you to blows?”
Immediately Iason spoke, and said: “We fight because the land is not fruitful, and the tribe of Ascena hunts the game and picks the fruit ahead of the path of our migration. We have been weakened by hunger and demand the tribe of Ascena find a new land.”
Then Ascena spoke up, and said: “No, we fight because the land is hard, and the tribe of Iason scavenges behind us, forcing us to move further down the path of our own migration. We have been exhausted by toil and demand the tribe of Iason find a new land.”
Dihan heard them and realized the root of their quarrel, and decided to lend her aid. “I will relive your suffering,” She told them both, “On the condition that once you have received my boon you will share it together in this land.”
The two chiefs went and brought their respective tribes back to the god and conferred on what to do. After a moment they were resolved, and both tribes agreed to Dihan's terms. So she went to the river which flowed through the land, and split its raging current so that one fork flowed between them. It wore down the dry rocks of the land, and turned it again and again until it was dark soil. And she brought plans and worms down the river, and they went into the soil, and made it thick with life.
Then she performed with joy an intricate dance in a godly manner, discovering it as she went. It was a thing of awe for all to see, and the humans were amazed and could not help but join in with her. As they went, the wet ground became loose and dark under their feet, and seedlings raised from it at the behest of Dihan. And it grew with frightening speed into tall stalks of wheat, which grew even past the heads of the humans, and they began to lose track of the dance, and the growth as well. When she stopped, the humans fell from their trance and forgot how they had moved before, for it seemed to be beyond them.
So the tribes kept their camp by the great growth of wheat, and feasted on it, and they no longer needed to travel great distances to survive. And the river kept them free of thirst and they did not need to carry their water a great distance, so they named it Dihanal in the god's honor. So a generation passed by the field, and all were happy. With the source of strife gone from the tribes, the enmity lessened and the two chiefs were wed, joining the tribes together. Now nearing the completion of her pregnancy, Dihan left the earth to be safe with the gods. It was not until the time when Cetaris, the son of Iason and Ascena, who had been nourished by the Dihanal, came to be chief like his parents before him that the yield of the stalks began to wane and scarcity and strife returned to them. So Cetaris called upon Dihan in the fields in hope she would return. But before the message would make its way up to Dihan, it was intercepted by the freshly weaned children of the god, the twins Arete and Aster. They took it and said: “Surely if we help these creatures it would greatly please our mother. Let us sneak down there and act before word spreads all across space.”
At the camp, Cetaris showed them how the wheat had grown scarce, and humans were once again reduced to their primitive conditions. He begged the young gods to do as their mother had done and perform the dance, but the two did not know how their mother had done it, and scrambled for another solution. Impetuously, they made wild demands of the tribe. Arete, the sister, demanded that they build a permanent temple to their mother at the center of the encampment, and Aster, the brother, demanded that they furnish the temple with images and icons of their mother. The people of the village went out, and pulled limbs from trees for the supports of the building and killed animals for colored fats. Each time they returned the twin gods were not yet satisfied, but demanded more, pushing the camp further and further into destitution.
At last the commotion caught the attention of Dihan, who rushed down to avert the crisis. She put fear into the hearts of Arete and Aster, and spoke this:
“I see that you two, immature as you are, do not yet see the value the life of humans holds, who dream all our matters. In hope that you will learn humility, I must cast you out into the land where humans and animals dwell in a simple state. Go now and wander.” Saying this, the twin gods were sent out of the town and went into the thicket. Now turning to the tribe, she continued: “I know that your desperation creates dependence, so I have decided to give you self-sufficiency, so you would never need to beg again. Now lend me your ear, Cetaris, so I may bless you.”
She leaned down and told Cetaris the secrets of the soil and the plow, and Cetaris was filled with understanding. With this in his mind, he ventured out of the village and tasted all the fruits and grasses he could find, learning which were poisonous and which were filling. He returned with many seeds, wheat and barley and oats and rye, and he cut and bent wood to make the plow. And he taught the people of the tribe how to make and grow these, and so they stayed by the riverside, fixing their houses to the ground around the temple of Dihan growing food on the banks.
The encampment grew into a city, the first of its kind, which its citizens called Asco. Their fields grew in size, and they trained the ox and the mule to carry them along across the vast fields of grain. They no longer needed to live in hastily made tents, but drove into the ground sturdy houses of wood and stone. Many people who wandered the earth found the marvelous city and put down roots in it, and they were welcomed. But as it is with all places where people live close together, spirits took root in the city. On the tallest roof of the city settled a long haired woman named Klewo with the wings and eyes of an owl, and red splotches crossing her skin. She watched over the comings and goings of the city, and became familiar with all its inhabitants, who in turn knew her as a welcoming face in their daily life. She kept the name of everyone who came and went, and it was by her word that one was declared a citizen.
One wanderer who became Ascean was a woman named Ilmeya, who came into town shrouded in fabric, with only her eyes visible. She joined those who worked in the fields who every day helped make the cities food. Cetaris, while he was going through an examination of the city, saw her and spoke:
"Why do you cover yourself in thick fabric, when the sun is high in the sky and heat intensifies your labor? You should dress lightly and ease your body like the others do, for the good of the yield."
And Ilmeya spoke to him: "I would, but in a new place I am fearful of making myself known. If I move on, I want to leave no trace behind. So for now nothing will move me."
Cetaris relented, but as a conscientious leader came whenever he was making rounds to her side with water so she could cool down and not strain herself while working. He did this for many suns, until at last she took him aside and brought him to a secluded place, where she brought down her heaviest layers and revealed her face. And she was beautiful to Cetaris, who fell deeply in love with her. He courted her from some time, and they lived together in Cetaris' home after that. Throughout the city she was known not just for her beauty but for her patient demeanor as well, which she lent in council to Cetaris.
Ilmeya bore to Cetaris a child, Elamon, who they raised for leadership by instilling in him an inquisitive nature. Like his father, Elamon wanted to learn from the first things what was good and harmful, and spent his early years searching and discovering. He often went to the forests west of the town, and played with sticks and rocks, crushing plants and seeing what was made from them. All the people in the city knew that he did this, and those who disliked the chief sought to use this to do the boy harm. So they went to the forest and dug a pit, covering it with leaves and placing bright flowers around it. And the boy went into the forest and was fooled by the flowers, and fell into the hole. Those who wanted to do him harm returned to finish off Elamon.
Back in the city, an alarm had been raised by Ilmeya, since Elamon had been missing for some time. The people of the city scoured the land around the city, but could not find him. Only Klewo, from her high perch, saw where Elamon was and what was about to happen to him. She beat her wings and went down, fighting off the attackers and scratching their eyes. They fled, and Klewo went into the pit, and took Elamon in her grasp and carried him out and back to his weeping parents. And Cetaris told Klewo:
"Our family and through our family this wide city is in your debt, and we respect your place among the people. As you have saved the life of my son, I say by the gods that his life is bound together with yours from here on."
Klewo returned to her post and was exalted by the citizens. Ilmeya and Cetaris led the city for 35 more years until Elamon was an adult and took the post of his father. Under their watch Asco and its fields had grown into the land, and people had come from all around, some staying and some leaving to bring the understanding of Asco to their own places.
In this time the gods took notice of the city's growth, for they could feel its thrumming presence in their heads. Dihan bragged to the others about how she had helped cultivate the city into its prosperous form. Hearing her high praise, Pheno decided to visit the city and see for himself what the humans were up to. He did not disguise himself, but came down wrapped in a cloud, casting a shadow across the land as he moved closer. When he came down, due to the fierceness of his nature there was a storm in the sky, and the land groaned. Klewo, with her sharp eyes, was the first to see his approach, and she said to herself:
"Why does Pheno, who helped bring down the mighty titans, come to this city? I have not seen him, for he was on the earth before the time of my generation, but I have heard of his might and suspect he has come to take control of the city for himself. Does he not respect the power that Dihan has over the affairs of humanity?"
So she went to the mouth of the city and bound up her hair into knots and tied up her skirt into the form of trousers. She inlaid her wings with metals and shiny things, and puffed them out as wide as she could, and borrowed from a citizen a sharp spear of her own height. Brandishing its point towards the sky, she stamped her feet into the ground, and put the spear in front of her with a defiant cry. And her voice carried towards Pheno, who thought:
"Look at how they resist my approach! Never before have I been rebuked by the very beings which brought me to earth! I must reflect upon this incident in order to be a better god for the people."
So he went to Eda, the tall mountain in the south, and sat on its peak, where he went into a deep meditation. But his heart was still in conflict, and if his eyes were not closed he would see how there began a torrential downpour, and how wind swept across the land. The city was battered, and its fields were flooded, and many weakened and died from lack of food. Klewo saw what her actions had wrought, and asked the gods what she should do. Full of wrath on behalf of the city, Dihan spoke to her:
"You were fearful, and did not allow the gracious god Pheno into your city. Though you are neither god nor man, you have acted in their stead and failed to uphold respect for both. You must go to Eda, where Pheno sits, and make amends, so the bond between man, gods, and the earth can be repaired."
Klewo did as Dihan told her, and left the city with tears in her eyes, and flew up to the north, where Pheno was sitting on the peak. The closer she went to the peak, the more turbulent the storm became, and she was forced to the ground and had to struggle on foot for the final part of her journey. At last she came to the eye of the storm, and found Pheno, but no matter how she begged and apologized to him, he did not stir, so deep was his trance. Seeing no success, Klewo retreated for the moment and took refuge in a tree down the mountain, only somewhat staying safe from the elements within its trunk. The next day, she returned with grass and flowers as offerings, but still Pheno remained sunk into himself. And the day after that she lit a fire near to keep him warm, but still he did not stir. For the next three years, Klewo went up the mountain every day to try and appeal to Pheno in his meditation. Day by day, she brought up branches and sticks, and formed the foundations of a shelter which protected them from the elements. Some days she would sit beside him deep in thought, working through her own guilt and worry. On others she would sing songs or speak tales she had learned in the city, both to pass the time and delight the god in his slumber. As Pheno's sleep thinned, he would hear them as if in a dream, and they delighted him. Some days she would simply sit and gaze at the resting god, watching his beard grow long, wondering what tumult in his mind could represent the storm outside.
At the end of the three years, when Pheno's eyes finally cracked open, he had been hearing and feeling Klewo's presence for some time. The first thing he saw in the bright light of day was Klewo's face looking deeply at him, in shock and awe. She had been waiting so long for this moment that she was left speechless, but Pheno told her:
"Spirit, you have done well. I have seen your heart as you have observed mine, and know that you felt no ill will but only wished to protect the city of humans from danger. Come with me and we may go back to the city of humans."
And he took her hand and together they flew back to the city of Asco. As they went, Pheno cleared the storm from their path, and shook the water from the soil. When they were in sight of the city, the people celebrated, and there were songs and festivals throughout it. They stood at the center of the city and Pheno declared to all the citizens:
"The hard times are over! Those who have suffered now celebrate, and do not bar your door. As I am a god made for your purposes, I will return favor to you."
With a wave of his hand, beaten rooves were mended, and life returned to the plants dying in the soil. Dihan above the earth smiled and lent her own power, reordering the things below. And the people of Asco celebrated for many days, and drank with the god and the spirit in a raucous celebration. When it was dark and the people at last returned to their normal life, Pheno too went to return back to the other gods. But when he was only a few paces from the city, he looked back and saw that Klewo was watching his departure, and spoke from his heart:
"Why am I so fascinated? I feel great pleasure in just seeing her, and such sorrow as I turn away from her. What pleasure would I derive by embracing her?"
So he turned back and embraced Klewo, and she embraced him too. Together they went back to the shelter on the top of the mountain, and there under the roof their bodies met. It was a mighty thing, and the earth and the sky shook from their love. And Klewo conceived a godly child, and was brought to the domain of the gods for its birth. For the duration of her pregnancy, she was doted upon by Pheno, and fed ambrosia and other pure things. Dihan assisted in the delivery of the child, who was the bright god Irami. But when the child was known to be healthy and Klewo went to return to the city, Pheno saw her leaving and was again filled with love and desire and pulled her aside and laid with her once more. And again she conceived a godly child, and stayed with Pheno for the duration of her pregnancy, feeding on ambrosia and other pure things, and again Dihan assisted in the delivery of the child, who was the ever curious Sotia. They were older brother and younger sister, always learning. Sometimes they spent time with their mother in the city, and other times they spent with their father above the earth, and other times with both in many places.
The children were reserved, and every day after their time with their parents they would find the oldest and wisest among the people of the city, and asked them to tell stories and wisdom from their lives. And every day they heard a little more, filling up with knowledge. After only a few years of this behavior, they had heard from all the wise speakers in the city.
Now, Klewo was not the only spirit which had risen from the city. There were two others, born of hunger and envy, who hid in the shadows. One was adorned with three masks and six horns, while the other was nothing but a coat of every kind of feather. And the masked one walked out and told Irami and Sotia:
"Come here, godly children, and I will show you wisdom which cannot be found in the city. There are things which humans will not tell their young, brute facts, which are down this path. Come here, godly children."
And though they were uncertain, the two children followed the envious spirit, and went into the shadows. The hungry spirit was laying in waiting, and when they arrived it split open and became a mouth, which swallowed them whole. Klewo from her perch could not see them, for they were in shadow, but she heard the sickening sound of swallowing, and immediately went to see what was happening. There were the two spirits, laughing at their evil deed, speaking:
"You thought yourself better than the other spirits rising from the land, because of your godly consort. We have swallowed down your godly offspring so that nothing will tie you to the god anymore, and you will be one among many wandering the streets."
Klewo tore at the hungry spirit, causing it to shed many feathers, but she could not cut into its body. When she could no longer bear the wails of her children, she bargained with the spirits: "Let them walk free and consume me instead," she spoke. Agreeing, the hungry spirit spit out the children and Klewo entered in their place. Now, the godly power of Irami and Sotia had protected them from their dissolution, but Klewo had no such defenses and was devoured by the spirit's hunger, and her power flowed into the two shadowy spirits.
The two young gods immediately ran to their father to alert him, but by the time they had roused him and he had come to the city, it was too late. In his fury he split apart the two spirits with lightning, and fled the city, which he could no longer bear to see, his two children with him. He went to Ethra and begged to spare Klewo and return her to the earth, but he was told:
"Her mind is already with Teuri on the way to the head. She will be going for some time, and it is not in the way of living things to let them rise up again. Take comfort in knowing that she will be united with life."
Pheno argued and wailed, but Ethra was steadfast. When Pheno saw that there was no convincing them, he stormed back to his place and fell into a deep depression. Light was dimmed all across space and Dihan strained with effort to keep the world going.
Now Arete and Aster were still wandering the forest at this time, living and fighting with the wild animals who lived there. It was a hard and brutal place, and they were weakened and cut off from the nectar of the gods. Every day they walked on foot deeper into the thicket, not knowing what they were looking for, or how they might prove to their mother they were ready to return to their godly position. And they grew, and became older though not yet wiser in their travels. They talked to the animals of the land, and asked for their wisdom, but none had anything to offer about the situation the young gods were in. After many years, they came to a clearing where there was a small encampment with a few poor people, living off of the land. Seeing this place, Arete turned to Aster and said:
“Look over there brother, and see that camp. I have devised a scheme where we might gain comfort from these people. You have grown into a statuesque form, and enchant even the wild animals, while I am lanky and my hair is knotted. Go into the camp and make them love you, and I will hide and snare their minds to us.”
And Aster stepped into the clearing, and in an instant the eyes of all the people there were upon him, for his form shone brightly in the day. While they were still captivated, Arete spoke from the bush and whispered into the ears of the people:
"See his form, and how perfect it is. Surely a form as perfect as this could not be born from a mortal body. You must worship him as your god, and forget all other things."
And her words entered the minds of the people, and they dropped their tools in the field so they could gather around Aster. They showered him with gifts and thought of nothing else, working in his honor. And Arete whispered for them to settle in the land, though it was far from the river, so they did in Aster's name and became a village. They gave him a high place of honor in the village, a house of his own, while Arete was content to hide in the shadows and enjoy the fruits of their deception.
Life was difficult in the village, the soil was hard and resources were scarce, and when time and strain pulled their thoughts away from the beautiful god, Arete would have to whisper again to them and snare their hearts once more. But each time she had to increase their desperation to keep them bound to the god, and she had to invent new dangers, fearsome consequences, and evil gods waiting just out of view. But it is in the nature of spirits to come when they are thought of, and soon there was a vicious spirit in the village. As Arete had warned them of the evil god Hagrab, there came to be the nefarious spirit Hagrab in the night. Each night it terrorized the villagers and ate them, and they went to Aster and begged him to deal with the spirit. While before they had been comfortable making empty threats now there was action needed, and Aster did not know what to do. But Arete was comforting, and told him:
"I have conjured this beast with my callous threats. I have conceived this whole plan of living in luxury on the backs of the humans. My thoughtlessness is at fault, and I alone will go to slay the spirit. Brother, tonight I will go out and find Hagrab, and by dawn we must set out again and leave these people behind. Their toil may continue, but the least we can do is not make it come from our hand any longer."
Arete waited until the sun had set, and the spirits of the moon were dancing, and set out into the village. And there was Hagrab, with a man in his mouth, gored and devoured. Arete pulled the spirit by its neck and choked it, but it thrashed against her, attacking wildly with its claws, tearing her skin. They wrestled for hours, pulling and tearing each other. Though she was not as godly as she could be, Arete still held back her might and attacked with only her teeth, and hands and feet. If blood could be drawn from a god, surely it would have on this night. But Hagrab did bleed thick black burning bile, and the two were coated in it. Slowly the spirit began to weaken, and Arete knew her victory was imminent. With a slash in the dark of the night Hagrab finally ceased its flailing, and Arete had won. And she heard Aster's voice in the night, telling her:
"Come now sister, let us leave this village, the day is already breaking and the people are waking up." And Arete was confused, and said:
"You do not speak the truth, brother. How can it be dawn when the darkness still sits so heavily upon the land? Point me towards the rising sun and show me there is light, unless black bile coats my eyes."
And Aster pointed towards the sun, which was above the mountains, but Arete's head did not even move to follow his hand, but looked away at nothing. It dawned on both of them that Arete had been blinded, but neither wanted to accept this bitter truth. Arete spoke again to Aster:
"Brother, please fetch me a flame from the village, as bright as can be, so I can be certain of my condition. There must be some spark still visible to me."
And he brought a torch for her, taken from the village. Gently he put it in her hand, guiding her to its grip. Arete could feel the warmth of the flame, but could not see it, so she brought it closer to her. Still she could not see it, so she once again brought it closer, and did this again, until her brother exclaimed:
"Sister! Your whole head is caught in the flame! Go no further!"
And Arete reared back and dropped the torch, in her horror. She turned away from her brother, and with her hands shaking tore a strip of cloth from her skirt to cover her blackened eyes. And she told Aster:
"It may be that I have been blinded so I could learn to see again. Brother, do me this, close your eyes and give me a moment to collect myself."
And Aster was worried but did as his sister asked and closed his eyes. After a moment he shouted out, asking if he could open them, but there was no response. And he opened his eyes, and Arete was gone from view, with no indication of where she had gone. He was greatly worried, and set out into the forest, trying to ascertain where she had gone. And he searched for some time through the forest, looking under every branch and calling her name. And he had searched for many days when he came across an old man on the edge of the forest. And he asked: "Why do you venture out into the forest, mortal man? It is dangerous even for something like myself in this direction." And the old man told him:
"I am not here by choice. I was traveling with my sons and daughters to Asco, but I have lost my way and do not know where they are, or where I am going. I must get to the city, but I cannot myself. Will you help me?"
Now Aster wanted to leave the man where he was and continue the search for his sister, but what he had done to the village in the forest weighed upon him, and he decided to help the old man. So he took him and charted a path through the forest, following the feeling of his mother towards its gates. And in a day's time they found themselves at the front of the city of Asco, which ASter had so long ago been cast out of. There were the sons and daughters of the old man, who welcomed him with tears and smiles. And Dihan too was there and came down, pulling Aster into a hug he had not felt in many years. With tears in her eyes, she spoke to him:
"How you have grown and become your own while you were aware from my eyes! If you come for the good of a human, surely you have learned to honor the human as they honor us. Now where is your sister, who must be following along behind you?"
And Aster told her: "I surely have learned what danger my own hand can cause. And my sister too, but she has suffered a grievous fate and blinded herself for humans, and I do not know where she has gone."
And Dihan heard this and wept, and Aster too, at the loss of their kin.
When Aster returned to the city, he was fully grown, and his youthful looks had been shed for a finely sculpted beauty. While it was enough to entrance any citizen, he kept his full godly visage restrained, so as not to make anyone do anything undisciplined because of his visage. But still, it was above what humans could achieve and drew many to him. Chief among them were the artists, who took great pleasure in making pictures of the god. They cut and shaped down stone until it contained a piece of his beauty, and drew him like he had once made them draw his mother, before he had matured. When they made clothes, or shaped pots and vases, his face was in them, in some way or another. Whenever Aster was out in public, there were always people following behind him trying to preserve his image in their minds.
And it was not only humans, but other gods as well, for Irami, on the cusp of adulthood, had too become fascinated by the well formed god. He too wanted to make images of Aster, but could not think of any way more impressive than what the citizens had done. So he went to his mother, and asked her for something he could use as a gift. And Dihan told him: "Fetch me a stone." So he did, and she took the stone, and she made real the words of ideas humans spoke. And they fell upon the stone, and went into it, making lines and recesses, and these were words and letters.
So Irami took the stone, and the runes on it, back to the city. And he made tools, for pressing and drawing into the clay, to copy the runes, and arrange them as he saw fit. He quickly found the gift from his mother useful, but was not yet sure how it could be presented to Aster.
So he went back to following Aster, though now he took note of everything he did. All these things he wrote down on the stone, until it was covered on all sides. He gathered his courage and decided to present the stone to Aster, who was delighted by it. Aster borrowed the carving tool from Irami and on his own stone wrote a story, with sounds that delighted each other in every part of it. He gave it back to Irami, who read it and loved the gift dearly. They traded with each other stones of information and stories many times over, cataloging and inventing much. Aster kept all the stones he received, and piled them up until they rose taller than any human in Asco. And Irami saw the pile, and spoke to Aster:
"These stones might as well be uncarved if you leave them inert and piled up. Here, I will give you the ones I have and you can distribute them to the humans in the city. This precious gift should not sleep in the care of gods, but be let free in the world of humanity."
So Aster took all they had made and gave it to the wise men of the city for study, along with the pressing tools. At first they did not know what to do with them, but piece by piece they began to understand the symbols and the tools as well, and began to make their own. These wise men were the first sages, who ensured the passage of knowledge through generations.
One day, godly Sotia was traveling through the city when she saw the sages instructing children from the stone tablets. The children were taking them and scratching what was written on them onto their own stones, exactly as it was on the original. And Sotia laughed and told them:
"Is this how you keep your knowledge, written the same over and over as if it were preserved in amber? If you yourselves have truly learned from these methods, then perhaps I wonder if you really are as wise as you claim, when you only follow the wisdom of others."
And they were displeased, and told her: "We fill the tablets with our others' knowledge, and we add to it with our own, little by little, at the end. It is surely wise to stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, and expand out from what is surely known."
But Sotia was still not satisfied. "If that is so," she said, "then we must test this knowledge, and see if these foundations can be true, or if what you are adding has no basis at all. Come with me, and we will try to learn together."
So Sotia, together with the two sages Heroda and Democur, went ambling in search of true knowledge. After a few minutes, they were at the edge of a stream by the city. Sotia pointed at the stream and asked them: "What is this?"
And Democur responded: "It corresponds exactly to what has been written before. It is a river of water, and it goes from the mountains and into the oceans. We areat the middle of it."
And Sotia stepped into the stream, and once again engaged with Democur.
"So I am in the river?"
"Surely it is so."
"But isn't the thing which I stood in when I asked you now some ten feet further down, and the thing I am now in some whole other thing? How can I be sure it is still a river?"
"It is still a river! Water runs down it, does it not?"
"Sometimes there is a drought in the land and the stream dries up, and other times there is a glacial melt and it flows into a wide channel. But this is still where the river lies."
And Democur was frustrated and said: "Sometimes it is not a river, but right now as I see it it must be! I may not know when, and I may know in general, but I know what I see!"
And Sotia laughed at him, for it could not be written down what one knows from their own sight, or else it would just be a record of one life all alone. Democur blushed, and they began to walk again. They moved downstream in silence, until they came to an aged tree, in the thicket. Sotia pointed at it and said: “Where did this come from?”
And Democur responded: “This tree grew from a small sapling, nourished by the sun and the soil. And that sapling fell from the branches of a nearby tree, which grew in the same way. And so on it spread.”
“Does that cycle go back indefinitely?”
“No, it is clearly written that the titans who came before the gods were the ones that put life on the earth.”
“And why did they do that?”
“I don’t think it is in the abilities of humans to understand the will of the titans.”
“Then what do we know of the sapling, if its real cause is only known by unknowable things? Is stating that really an answer?”
"It is at least a partial one! It explains more than than no answer, and allows for someone after myself to figure it out."
"But the possibility of an answer is still not one."
Democur thought on this, but could not find the words. For the second time, he blushed. So they kept on ambling further away, until the stream emptied into a wide lake. They bent down and looked into its surface, and Sotia pointed at Democur’s reflection in the water and said: “What is that?”
“It is me.”
“But you are not in the water?”
“No, it is just a reflection of me. An image, made in the shining of the waters upon me. I should correctly say that it is of me, not me.”
“But how can I know what is of and is? Could what I see above the water just be a clearer image? As a god, I could be with you only as an image, for surely in an instant I could be somewhere else in the universe.”
Democur was now very frustrated and shouted: “Sly god, you throw all sorts of words my way to twist what is obvious! When the stream or tree is in front of me I believe that it is what I think. And when I am somewhere I really think I am there! I may not know it, but I can experience something nearly as good for my writing. It is just self evident!”
Democur was heaving breaths when at last Heroda spoke up. She said: “I think there is at least one thing we can ascertain, based upon the absence of answers and glut of questions the cunning god has given you. Though you may not know anything, it is certain that you know as much as a god.”
Sotia laughed at Heroda’s words, greatly pleased. And she said: “Very well. Go on using your experience and your reason, and make your way closer to that thing neither of us know. I will be with you on this quest forever more.”
And the two wise men returned to the city, and continued in the writing, though they developed it, and came up with new runes and words which had not been put down by Dihan, and at times they cut off the old parts and began with their own words, though it was still all connected.
For a long time Teuri had been taking the soul of Klewo up through the universe. She left in a group of several thousand souls, all of which were taking the journey away from the earth. Klewo felt some protectiveness for the group, as she had for the people of Asco, and she took charge and comforted them on the journey. For the youngest she sang, and to the others she projected a strong front in the face of the unknown. Teuri took note of this, and kept flying his steady flight through space.
At the entrance to the head, Ethra was waiting to sort the souls and bring them in. And Teuri led them one by one, in single file until Klewo was about to enter. As it became bright and cloudy Ethra pulled Klewo away and turned to say to Teuri:
"She will not become part of the universe yet, for a woman has come to me and made me believe there is still more for the winged spirit to do, if not as she is now. Take her back down with you, my daughter, and let her become involved again in earthly matters."
Teuri was curious, but did as their parent said, and took hold of Klewo's hand and brought her soul all the way back to earth. The ride was tough, she was ill prepared, and pieces of Klewo's energy were sloughed off and went into the universe. By the time they were back at earth, Klewo was no more than a wisp, and easily fell back into the coursing energy flowing around the planet. She floated for a long time in the atmosphere, circling closer to the land of people. The connection she had with the Ascean chief Elamon, forged in his childhood, pulled her soul near him, and she came down there. He had grown up, and become chief in his own right, after his parents had retired from their positions in their fourth decade of service. He had gained a wife, raised by the sages, who was named Eneita. And when the two laid together, Klewo's soul was pulled into Eneita's body and she conceived. Her soul was nourished in Eneita, and grew and pulled in the energy of the earth, shifting until she was born as their child Caneda. No longer did she have the appearance of a spirit, great wings and feathers, but she was just a regular human in mind and body. And Eneita could have no other children after the exhaustion of birthing Caneda, but Alamo steadfastly kept her by his side.
Under the roof of the chief Caneda grew up like a weed in the rain. In no time at all she was running and causing trouble in the city. She climbed trees and had a love of high places, buried in her instincts, curling up on roofs and in towers for hours. And many times she had to resist the urge to jump and fly, which was ingrained in her.
When she was no longer a child, she became curious about the affairs of her parents, and how they kept together the city of Asco. So she assembled a council from the various peoples in the city, one farmer, one forager, one merchant, one traveler, one artist, one craftsman, one laborer and one speaker. She hoped to hear from each of them about the city, as they did with her father. But she would hear from one that there was not enough water for the fields, and from another that too much went to the fields and not enough to keep in the city. The council soon devolved into fighting amongst the different representatives, with Caneda distraught at her failure. But Dihan saw the commotion and came to her rescue, pulling her away from the council. And as they moved up into the clouds and the city blurred below, Dihan told the girl:
"They wail and moan when others are close by, but as their voices recede they become people in a group. Look at how they all move in unison."
And Caneda looked down at the council and saw they were in rhythm. And she looked at the rest of the city and saw it moving and pulsing in time. And she felt the urge to fly above it, and spread her arms out. But Dihan was carrying her, and brought her back down to earth into the home of her father.
When Dihan returned to the gods when she had finished her work in the city, she told them of the child of the chief who looked to the sky. To Pheno alone she spoke of her suspicions about it being Klewo reborn, but he was unmoved. "It is not possible, even by the hand of a god," he said. "Leave me to my misery." And he continued to sit.
When many years had passed, and Caneda began to assume leadership of the city, there was a great celebration in Asco. Caneda went up before the people of the city to be seen by them, and the many travelers who came in on that day. And the murmurs of this celebration had made their way up to Pheno, who could not shake what Dihan had told him. So he donned the costume of a weary man, and went to the celebration in disguise. He looked and saw Caneda on stage, but he could not hear her talking, for all he saw was the shimmering image of who she had once been. When the ceremony had finished, he found her, and after asking her they went together to a secluded place. And he shed his mortal form and revealed himself as a god, speaking:
"I am Pheno, the ruler of that which is physical! Once I had a wife, more brave than any other, the wise spirit of the city, Klewo. Though she died, she has been born once again in you, I can see it in your soul clearly. Remember how you used to soar through the skies, and swing down for the people, and how you braved the worst elements to make justice apparent! Return to my side, and I will fill you again with godly energy."
But Caneda was frightened by his blinding brightness, and did not feel the wait of his words. "That cannot be me," she told him. "I am, have been and will be nothing but the daughter of Elamon and Eneita. Perhaps Aster has filled your eyes with lies in jest, but this has nothing to do with me."
And he did not want to harm her, so Pheno let Caneda slip away back to the city of humans. Though he was again distraught and depressive, and the thought of deep slumber appeared before him, he knew that what he had lost was now once again within reach, and he strengthened his heart. Seeking advice, he went to the young god Aster, asking him what could be done to woo Caneda, and let her hear his words. And Aster spoke:
"Caution and paranoia are not new to your relationship, and have fallen once before to love. Do for her what she did for you on the tall mountain of the north, and approach her bare and with devotion in your heart. Act without consideration for your image, but think only of your acts and deeds as the letter of your love. The world is always shifting under your feet."
So Pheno recalled his human guise, and returned to the city. And he knelt down before her, and pledged himself into her service, saying, "I will be your shield, your sword, your hands and all else that you need me to be." So she relented and took him in.
Caneda began to work in the city, taking on responsibilities when she could. When she went around the city and looked after its people, Pheno followed behind her, always cautious and always caring. In the first year of her watching she went through the city to ask the citizens if there were any ills, and was told by a woman that her father had been sent out to a home away from the city, because he had become plagued and marked, and she could not bring help to him safely. Caneda wanted to help him herself, but her parents warned her against contact which could bring disease into the city. So of his own will Pheno went alone, because he knew he would be unaffected. And he brought the man bread and clothes. When the sick man ate the bread, his body shone and the scabs and scars which covered his body receded and he jumped up with renewed vigor. And he profusely thanked Pheno, but was quieted, and Pheno spoke to him:
"Do not tell the citizens what I have done for you. Let us pretend that when I came to you the scars you had were healed over time, and not by divine will. For there may not always be a god, but there is reason to always hold out hope."
And together they returned to the city, and caused a great alarm when the people saw them both at a distance and thought he had brought the plague back, but then great relief when they saw they were both clean. And the old man spoke the story Pheno had told him, and was held by his daughter, and they both cried profusely. But Caneda was the only one who knew of the godly nature of Pheno's disguised form, and realized what had surely occurred at the home, and her heart warmed at his kindness.
In the second year of her watching she went through the city to ask the citizens if there were any imperfections in the city. And they spoke to her of many things, some out of the control of her or any other person, and some minor and resolved through simple words. But there was one which puzzled her, which was that the city itself lacked beauty. It was nothing more than the sum of its people at the time. So Caneda went to where Aster frequented, and looked at the many artists who were inspired by him. But each was focused on their own art, or the person their art was for, and none towards the city as a whole. But Caneda continued going about, searching for someone who could make beautiful communal art. Pheno, who was with her, looked deep into the hearts of the people around, and pulled her attention to a young farmer's boy working quietly. "He has the skill within him," Pheno whispered to Caneda. "Give him the tools of an artist and he will surely bring life to the walls of the city."
Caneda herself had come up with no better idea, so she listened to Pheno and brought the young farmer before them and gave him all the implements and time of an artist. He had only seen others use them, but had long dreamed of them being his own, and he set to work learning and trying. In time he became well versed in the arts, and built a grand and stately building for the political matters of the city, and many fine statues and reliefs through the paths and facades of it. Caneda was praised for her decisive ability, but she held in her heart the knowledge of what Pheno had done.
In the second year of her watching she was called into the city by the cries of its citizens. She rushed towards the scene, Pheno following closely behind. They went to a field closest to the city, where a man had been gored by an ox and lay in the field for all to see.
"It is surely the machinations of the farmer who owns that ox," said one citizen, "for he has for some time been squabbling with the dead man over the matter of seeds. His ox was docile enough for a boy to pet only a few weeks ago!"
But another citizen spoke up. "The farmer who owns that ox is nowhere to be seen. How can he be blamed for a crime for which he was not present, and for which we can only assume he committed?"
They knew what had happened, but had no recourse to deal with it. While they continued to argue, Caneda looked to Pheno, wondering if he would step in. But he turned to her and spoke: "These matters are best left in the hands of the humans involved. But I can do my part to let the river flow as it will." And he raised tools from the earth, and put them in the hands of each person there, axes and shovels and spears. And they took the tools and went to the farmer, and ran him out of the city, off into the distant land.
Caneda felt she had seen Pheno's heart in these last three years, and agreed to listen to his words once again, and see if she truly was who he said. He took her to the mountain in the north, when he had one meditated, which was now built up into a temple in his honor. He showed her the tree she had found shelter in, and the place where they both had sat at the peak. And she looked at all of it with him, taking it in. At each significant object, Pheno looked to her hopefully, and each time she did not know what to feel. At last, she told him:
"If those times were ever within me, the passage of time and growth has long since washed them off of me. I will not be the winged spirit you have in your memories. But if you let me, perhaps I could be something new with you."
And Pheno was overjoyed, and took her into the temple to be united with her. They laid together, in the old god's temple, and were connected again in body and mind. When the two returned to the city, it was with the great news of their bond, which was celebrated in the city for many nights. Months after their union, Caneda bore a son, who was named Casor, the offspring of human and god.