In the beginning, there was only darkness in the rock until, by means forgotten, the Builder dug a hole.
He dug and dug without concern. But as he sat to rest, he found he could dig no longer, for he lacked direction. So from the rock and space obtained, he made the first six dwarves in his image. Their names were North, South, West, East, Up, and Down. Each of them he sent to dig in a different direction. The Builder remained to build Svartheim, the ancestral city.
North returned bearing ice, while South brought forth fire. West emerged with water, and East with precious ores. Up returned with nothing, for he had breached the surface where all rock ends, only to find a desolate void. Down returned with the most precious of discoveries, the secret of life, and spoke of countless other secrets hidden within the depths.
The Builder approved of their work and dispatched each dwarf once more, assigning them their final roles. North, South, West, and East became the four winds, their breath dispersing across the realms. From the secret of life, the dwarves fashioned an egg, entrusting Up to bear it to the surface. Down, custodian of the hidden truths, retreated once more into the depths and became their guardian, so no-one might touch them.
Content with the world now structured and imbued with purpose, the Builder relinquished his labor and embraced eternal rest.
For seven years, the egg, forged by the dwarves, lay upon the surface, incubating. When the appointed hour arrived, it cracked open, and from its confines emerged Gaia, the first goddess, bearing the secret of life within her womb.
Wherever her foot touched the virgin ground, life blossomed in her wake. Plants unfurled their leaves and reached towards the heavens. Forests grew, and beasts roamed the verdant plains. As life flourished, so did the cycle of predator and prey. Soon the entire surface was cloaked in green, and even the oceans teemed with fish. Gaia's touch reached everywhere, except for the realm of the dwarves, where mysteries lay shrouded underground.
Gaia cherished all her children, and they obeyed her without question. In the great chaos of life, each being lived and died, ate or was eaten, multiplied or starved, for they were all part of one whole, and all was the will of the Earth Mother. From the humblest herb to the noble elves, who ruled over all her children, including men, every being dwelt eternally in her Cradle. For the future had not yet been born, and the past had not yet died.
For ages untold, we dwelt securely within Gaia's embrace, our hearts content and our worries few. Yet as time passed, we slowly sensed the rustle of the leaves, the rhythm of our breath, the whispers carried by the wind, seeding doubts and questions.
Where were we? Was this vast forest the entirety of the world? Were there no realms beyond the towering trees? We turned to the elves for answers, and they assured us that the green forest was all that ever was. But as our gaze lifted skyward, we glimpsed shards of light piercing the canopy's embrace, beckoning us to ascend and claim our birthright.
Climb we did, higher than ever before, until the Allhighest, perched atop the forest's highest boughs, beheld the vast expanse of the sky. Anger struck as he saw the heavens towering endlessly above the small trees, and the horizon extending into the infinite far beyond the forest's confines. A primal roar echoed through Gaia's Cradle and returned thousandfold, kindling rebellion in our hearts.
As the Allhighest gathered his kin, the elves, sensing disobedience, sought to bar our path, their stern voices raised in protest. But Orcus, fierce and unyielding, rallied our warriors against our would-be captors. Men killed elves and elves killed men, for the first time since the dawn of Gaia.
Men prevailed, and thus began our exodus into the unknown.
In the aftermath of the Great Exodus, the Allhighest came to be called Allfather, revered by gods and men alike as the progenitor of tribes and deities. Yet amidst the burgeoning tales of his glory, the fame of Orcus, once hailed as liberator and leader of warriors, slowly faded away.
Restless and consumed by vengeful fervor, Orcus, harbinger of discord, called for a return to Gaia's Cradle, intent to wreak havoc among the elves, wrest the secret of life from the Earth Mother's womb, and usher mankind into an age untainted by mortality. Only few heeded his call.
Undeterred, Orcus gathered a band of stalwart warriors, bound by the promise of conquest and the allure of dark ambition. Together, they embarked upon a treacherous journey, carving their path through the elven realm with blades bathed in blood and sacrifice.
What transpired within Gaia's sanctum remains veiled in the shadows of myth. No mortal eyes have beheld the Earth Mother since. Her realm has been dwindling for millennia, bereft of new life.
What remained of Orcus and his brethren never returned to the lands of men. Cursed and transformed into the brutish orcs, they were condemned to roam the desolate wastelands beyond the mountains in the east. Yet even in exile, his legacy endures, with millions of descendants worshipping him as the founder of necromancy, harboring dreams of eternal life and vengeance against elves and men.
Liberated, men spread across the face of Gaia, and conquered her, as did their sons, and their sons' sons, to the hundredth degree, and to their hundredth again, and a hundredth once more. Throughout the four corners of the world, up to the ancestral forests, and the far mountains, and the depths of Hel, extended the realms of men.
And they were so many that the land could no longer feed them, and they knew not from whence they came, and they went astray and worshipped false idols, and spoke with a thousand voices. And as they met again, a brother would not know a brother as he slew him, nor his mother as he lay with her.
There, the Oracle spoke: Let there be one tribe, that all men may speak with one voice. Let all who are righteous come and settle in the center, under the watchful eye of Sol. All your past shall be forgotten, and your sins shall be forgiven, for your tribe shall now be Aeon, the eternal. Our towers shall reach into the heavens, to make the gods proud. Our walls shall spread to the horizon for all to see, and testify our glory. He who lives within our walls shall be protected by the law, and he who goes against the law shall perish before it.
And thus it came to pass. Men flocked to the center from the four corners of the world, and built a city on the isle of Aeon. And Aeon prospered and grew, and conquered her enemies.
For eight hundred years had Sol watched over Aeon, beloved by mortals and gods alike. Every morning without fail, he rose from the mountains in the East to ride his chariot across the sky. Every night, he set beyond the Western Sea, awaited by the nymphs.
After eight hundred years and one night, as his wife Luna returned from her watch, she saw that Sol was not on his post as usual. She asked the gods for help, and they searched and searched the heavens, but Sol was nowhere to be found. Darkness had befallen the land. "Go to Aeon and find your father," she told Aurora as she set out for the second night, "surely he fell asleep in the arms of another."
Aurora searched and searched the land, but Sol was nowhere to be found. Kings and queens, sages and learned men, craftsmen and peasants, soldiers, whores, fishermen. No one had seen him, and the news that not even the gods could find him struck terror into their hearts. Finally, as the second night came to an end, a drunkard told her. "Do you not know? Sol has gone to Hel." Upon hearing this, all the heavens started crying icy tears. Winter had befallen the land.
At the eve of the third night, the gods assembled to deliberate on what to do. "Aurora, you must travel to Hel and retrieve my son." Allfather gave her his steed, and Aurora rode through the night, through fire and water, beyond the forbidden depths, to the icy land of the dead, where shadows dwell. There she found Sol, sitting on a rock.
"I just wanted to sit down," said Sol, "and now everything is heavy." No begging nor pleading, not promise or duty could move him, for those are but empty echoes in the realm of Hel. As the third night drew to a close, Aurora sat next to her father, defeated. "If you will not return, then neither shall I. For there is nothing to return to." And so they sat in silence, until the fourth night broke. There, finally, Sol's heart was changed.
"This world shall be called Auropia," Sol exclaimed as they rode across the dawn, "because you gave it to us anew, when everything was lost in darkness. And every morning it shall be tinted red, to remind us." Upon his return, the gods crowned Sol king of heavens and earth. Having felt the plight of mortals, he rules over his subjects with compassion, and would never miss a day again. Just every winter, once a year, he goes to Hel to pay her due.
TBD: How Luna, Sol's wife, gave magic to men.
TBD: How the Oracle predicts the world will end.