Just some contrived mythology.
***
Excerpt from Creation
From A Thousand Silences: Songs of the Lost
First, a single mountain, full of flame—
Rock that never burns but flows.
The blood of the Ancient One—and from her,
Birthed from molten stone, arose
Three children, gods of old, trinity.
Creatures of light and flesh,
These gods, with divine creativity,
Built sister worlds—Minze and Jörd.
Ceria, goddess of beginnings, of birth—
From her womb are born all that bear Soul-fire.
She holds the great star in the palm of her hand,
Her warmth and renewal ne’er tire.
Va’ashtara, goddess of Life and of Jörd,
Stepped from her mother’s flame brazen and strong.
Her spear is mighty—who can wield her sword?
Bronzed arms set all right, right all wrongs.
Naðreil, god of Death, wanders always alone.
Feared by the living, crossing wastelands he roams.
Some suffer his judgement; some sins he atones.
In the end, all souls kneel at his throne.
***
Excerpt from Creation
From A Thousand Silences: Songs of the Lost
First, a single mountain, full of flame—
Rock that never burns but flows.
The blood of the Ancient One—and from her,
Birthed from molten stone, arose
Three children, gods of old, trinity.
Creatures of light and flesh,
These gods, with divine creativity,
Built sister worlds—Minze and Jörd.
Ceria, goddess of beginnings, of birth—
From her womb are born all that bear Soul-fire.
She holds the great star in the palm of her hand,
Her warmth and renewal ne’er tire.
Va’ashtara, goddess of Life and of Jörd,
Stepped from her mother’s flame brazen and strong.
Her spear is mighty—who can wield her sword?
Bronzed arms set all right, right all wrongs.
Naðreil, god of Death, wanders always alone.
Feared by the living, crossing wastelands he roams.
Some suffer his judgement; some sins he atones.
In the end, all souls kneel at his throne.