Travelling the folds of night’s cloak are the five moons which circle the world, ever full faces turned to their mother as they glow with the inner light of their own divinity.
A tale of the beginning
Many things came to pass before the advent of knowing, or perhaps only the coming of memory.
The Fíla (the bards) tell tales of the Early Time, those stories that Macháin has gifted them with. No one knows how else the Teller came by such knowledge.
There was the Night, and the Day. That which drew together, quiet, and that which fled apart, bright. They gazed so long at one another that they became solid in order to touch, and mingle together in their hollow innards, those two differences.
This mingling – tiny and insignificant compared to their real selves – but immense nonetheless gathered itself together over incalculable time. Finally, she became one dim, cooling and beautiful thing, and woke. This waking drew something, like desire, out of the Day, and another something was born from the want of what was – it opened its eye and radiance shone down upon what before had been only a mingled rumor of true light. Las and Arcodd were born.
These two surrogates of the firmaments moved together, in love. The meeting was awesome. Jas’ light was dimmed by His contact with the Daughter of Shadow, and she burned ablaze with the touch of the Eye of Light. Their touch was the first passion, the first glory, the most intense love. As such, it was the most insustainable.
Fearing for the ember of his life, Jas fled toward the bright firmament, seeking renewal. In his absence, it had changed, and he spent a time exploring it, and making for himself and his bride, a home.
While he was away, Arcodd rested against the bosom of the dark firmament, and the sun’s seed moved in her, and she at last gave birth to light and shadow, gold and black iron. They were like and unlike her. Like and unlike Jas. They shone with their own light, but were cool. They were glorious, but small and filled with something the mother did not understand. She gathered them, lovingly, to herself.
Jas exclaimed in wonder and the children he had made, and rounded the Firmament to gather them up, to gaze upon them, to bring them into the home he had made. His actions were sudden and his gaze was fierce. As he sought to understand his children, they were burned by his attentions, and fled toward the dark Firmament, which he could not enter. Exerting his might, he began to turn the Bright Foundation itself, dragging it after him, calling out to Arcodd to present what belonged to him.
The ring of his voice drove them further into and futher into their mother’s shadow, further from his sight. He commanded, and then pleaded with Arcodd to produce his get, bring his sons and daughters into the light of the home he made for them. Arcodd knew that it would be the death of them, if not of her, to enter in the Bright Foundation. She refused, but Jas, full of need, persisted.
Prismos, brightest of her children, said that he would stand before their father and explain to him the way of things. He surged into the heavens, raising the might of his gleam before Jas’ eye. His calls and young wisdom rang from both Firmaments.
Jas misunderstood the language of his child, and thought Prismos was attacking him, demanding rulership of all the Sky. Jas smote his child a blow, to teach him the lessons of Fire.
Prismos was young, and unafraid, and did not flinch.
Jas was mighty beyond compare, and his get took the blow whose strength he did not understand, and was broken. Shattered into a million pieces, his lights broke across the firmament. Some smote his mother, with the burning blows of Jas. Others fell away, into another place.
The heart of the night was broken by this, and the firmament itself was nearly destroyed as the two halves tried to understand what had happened. Night took her broken heart, and bound 12 spirits to contain it, gave it to Arcodd to have as a fosterling, to renew her number of get.
Night took the broken pieces of Prismos that she could find and adorned her hair with them, where they shine even now, a lesson, or a warning, or a cause to rejoice.
Arcodd spun herself to sleep with weeping, and her tears became the oceans. Jas spun himself to sleep with the weeping and his tears became the infinite blue of the sky. He became the Sleeping Eye, and is now called Grían.
The children, the five children left, looked down upon their mother, as her tears and her need for her lost son caused fecundity to cover her. The oceans flooded her sadness into being. The rain stood for her tears. Life covered her, and she fell into a long and dreamless Labor.
The Nightwings, the only ones still Wakened, they pledged to watch over Arcodd and her new children, and keep them safe, until such a time when Arcodd and Grían could overcome their differences, and the knowing would pass out again from the peoples of the world back into the Heart which is Arcodd, and the Seeing which is Jas, and the Night and the Day would become one in the end of things.
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