Preface: The Creation

In the beginning there was only our Great Father. For longer than any mortal can fathom He illuminated the chaotic universe, alone and unchallenged. Then, in his chosen time, he would channel his own light into the prism of empty darkness and shape a world of its many colors.

The darkness would become a flurry of activity as fractured light danced and tumbled through space. Only the favorite stars were to be held by the night sky, while the others would burn out and be swallowed by the chaos. The Father surveyed these tiny lights, and decided the purpose for each one. In his hands, he shaped a brilliant sun from the boldest of the stars and a great moon from the meekest. The sun would be a doubtless heavenly body in its dominion over the sky, but moon’s unassuming glow would give rise to the sea and guide its motions. The stars not chosen to adorn the heavens did not die in vain for they would become the clay used to sculpt the raw earth.

This new earth changed by the moment, rolled and pressed between His fingers. The land, having risen and collapsed upon itself countless times, now bore layered waves of color below its surface, not unlike the rings of an ancient tree. At one moment the earth would crumble into dust under grinding pressure, and in the next be smoothed by liquid fire. The sea was restless, breaking on the land and boiling, the waves following the path of the moon. The sun would rise and set on this barren and hostile world for an unfathomable length of time before there was ever a living being to see it.

Then our Creator soothed the violent fits of his savage creation, and refined it with the birth of life. He gathered the clouds together over a stretch of shoreline that Man would later call the Alban Sands. Below, the sea grew restless as the moon disappeared from sight. The water became expansive and frothy white as the waves collided with the shore, with the air, with one another. As the sea foam rose toward the sky the heavy cloud cover began to sink by its own weight.

The moving bodies slowly consumed the horizon, as the distance between them diminished. The frothy ocean water burst upward into sharp peaks, while the heavy fog appeared concave as it repelled itself from the sky. The sea and the sky painfully stretched toward one another, reaching. Thin ribbons of cloud and sea foam intertwined like the fingers of clasped hands. Their grip on one another tightened slowly, increasing the force between them, until what held in the twin fists could not help but slip through their fingers. Two distinct bodies tumbled toward the sea, while two others were hurled toward the sky. The first living beings on the earth took the form of two twin sisters, and two twin brothers. So was the birth of the Cardan.

At first glace, the Cardan could be mistaken for a race of man. They walk on two legs, reach upward and outward with two arms, and bear all the proper features of a human face. There are, however, only physical similarities between Man and the Cardan. The siblings are the only beings on the earth, not only to be immortal, but to also be gifted with power over the wind and the waters. The Cardan regard their world with childlike sense of wonder, and use their gifts with a savage innocence that man can both envy and fear.

The sisters, Morgance and Ula, are called the Undafer. They live solely in the waters of the earth, never setting foot on dry land. They are like beasts of the sea in human form. Their skin is smooth, and silvery-green in color; there are no whites to their large, black eyes. They are crowned with long, silky hair that trails behind them in flat ribbons as they move through the water, and lies neatly on their shoulders while they suspend themselves between the surface and the seabed. Their fingers and toes are long and webbed. In line with each of their ears, just beneath the jaw line, is a set of gills. Otherwise, their naked bodies bear all the characteristics of human women, merely lacking softness due to their stiff skin. They swim with their arms pressed to their sides, moving in a wavelike motion. These are the stewards of the waters.

The twin brothers of the Undafer, Braegus and Celox, are called the Spiravi. They resemble human men in the general shape of their bodies, but there is no question to their identity. Their skin is pure white with a sheen that blurs the lines of their shape; between their arms and their chests there are large webs of flesh that act as wings. Their hair and eyes are colorless, further contributing to their ghostly appearance. Arms held in line with shoulders, they float continuously through the air, so lightly they might take rest on clouds or patches of fog. These are the stewards of the wind and the air.

The Cardan appeared with no idea as to what their role was to be, and by nature it never occurred to them to ask. Like children, they marveled at their changing world, greeting the appearance of the smallest meadow blossom, or the largest of the great hunters with the same level of excitement. They remained in a perpetual state of play, constantly enjoying the arrival of new playmates. The Cardan seemed unaware of the complexity of the living world. Ornamental beauty was offered by a myriad of wildflowers, but survived by prickled stems and stinging insects. The great hunting beasts commanded such majesty, but were often fouled by the blood of a recent kill. The siblings, however, saw every new addition as a vision of infinite beauty, and when his vision was satisfied, the Father had created a world where beauty could be preserved by its own serrated edge.

Now came the time to produce a guardian race that would protect and keep the new earth. Unlike the flora and fauna that now populated the world, the guardians would have no stable role to play. Even in nature’s stochastic rhythm they would have an extraordinary capacity for change. These beings were to be conscious of the events around them, and thoughtful in their response. The Guardians’ connection to their creator would be more direct than any other being, for they were to be the only ones capable of loving in a manner that could satisfy the Father. Both the Creator and each member of his guardian race would be willful in their choices, but none could deny His true authority. This bond between Creator and creation would be preserved by a strict doctrine for living equipped with harsh punishments, and lavish rewards.

At last the Cardan would realize their purpose in the creation. By the Father’s command, the wind blew hot over tepid waters from all regions of the earth, and tumbling mists spread onto the land. This is the first time in history that the Sivan mists would arise. This phenomenon is produced by the collective efforts of the siblings, and as a result, it the only condition under which the Undafer and the Spiravi might travel within the same domain. While they were quite able, the Father’s strict instructions demanded that the Cardan not venture into the mists. The siblings were not accustomed to secrecy. Until this time they had freely observed the shaping of all life on earth, yet it was the Father’s intent that Man arrived under mysterious circumstances. What occurred within this contrived chaos is among our creator’s most guarded secrets. The exact events of this time, however, are of little importance now. The story man begins with the parting of the mists.

The start of humanity moved stiffly in damp, naked skin, as would a child exhausted by its own birth. They blinked at the sun as it began to dry the mist, slowly revealing what was to be their domain. The humans that emerged from the Sivan mists were timid in their efforts to explore their world, keeping only narrow territory and familiar company. This resulted in the development of three distinct tribes that would coexist for many years before discovering one another. Each of the tribes became tailor-made representatives of their homeland; their trades and their customs evolving in proportion their bodies. These were the agrarian plains people, the skilled sylvan hunters, and the healing artists of the cloud forests. Each region was provided enough food and water to sustain its inhabitants, and fire arrived soon after with those same summer storms that have continued to blow inland each year since. Having been well provided for, the members of each tribe fed, clothed, and sheltered themselves in accordance with their needs, resources, and talents.

. The Father and the Cardan watched these events unfold, and attended to the needs that were beyond mortal ability. The race of Man thrived, but had little knowledge of the Father or his plan for them. On His chosen day, the Father would remedy this and make himself known to his children. The colors that accompanied that sunrise seemed misplaced, the golden clouds separated by silvery blue light. The colors began to twist together like the winds of a hurricane, and within its “eye” was an orb of white light. For the first and last time, all of humanity looked to the sky. The Father was silent for a time, allowing his children to stand in awe of the display and ponder its significance. Then, in a gentle voice that was more easily felt than heard, he gave the greatest minds of his creation the simplest of commands: “Remember Me.”