RISE OF ATLANTIS

For thousands of nights, Nekeiy was alone, surrounded by eternal darkness. After many years, the moon felt a deep longing, was craving for someone to keep her company, and so from magic she formed Raeh, the sky. While Nekeiy was content with their togetherness, Raeh began feeling lost and lonely, for it was just the two of them in the vast emptiness, with nothing and nobody there besides them. In an attempt to cheer Raeh up, to bring back her laughter and joy that filled the nothingness with life and warmth, Nekeiy created seven planets to surround them, orbs in different colours and sizes. They managed to lift the sky's mood for a while, but soon enough Raeh grew sad again. Again, Nekeiy tried to distract her by creating nature and animals, which worked for a while, but not for long. Seeing the sky so sad and heartbroken greatly upset Nekeiy, and when Raeh wept tears of misery, Nekeiy cried with her, and from their tears billions of small specks of light were born, blinking out into the darkness. Raeh bestowed them with the ability to think, feel and create, and watched in delight as they roamed the universe, buzzing around the two lovers in excitement.

 

The two goddesses loved the stars equally, but a few were egoistic and jealous of the others. Wanting all attention for themselves, the stars began to plot against their brethren, intending to get rid of them. However, before they could execute their terrible plan, the goddesses intervened; they cast the traitors out to the furthest corners of the universe, their forms twisted and warped into large, hungry black holes. For their own safety, the other stars were prohibited from wandering off, greatly limiting them in their freedom. Soon, they began feeling restless. They had explored and discovered all of the universe; and while Raeh had given them the ability to think and create, there was nothing to create, no meaning in life. The stars desperately searched for a purpose, and surprisingly found it in the animals on earth. After watching these creatures for a while, the stars turned to their creators and asked for fleshly bodies. Confused, the goddesses demanded to know why the stars would give away their immortality. "We want to be mortal," the stars replied. "For being mortal means having a purpose, means having goals and being able to create."

 

Though hesitant at first, the goddesses finally agreed. And so, the stars rained down from the sky, their orb bodies transforming into human shape. The stars, now calling themselves kijihoasha (children of the stars) or humans, roamed the endless wilderness of earth, trying to adapt to their new environment. For all their struggles, they managed well for quite some time, but eventually were shown their limits. The humans turned to their creators and asked for shelter, food, warmth, guidance and tools, for they were hungry, cold and scared, constantly surrounded by darkness and monstrous dangers lurking in the shadows outside their settlements. Nekeiy and Raeh didn't know what to do, as they did not require any of those to survive, so they got together and from their spiritual union came Rairdasril and Sa'mrl. 

 

Hearing the mortals' pleas, Rairdasril took fire from her hair, formed it into a ball and threw it up to the sky, where it became the sun. It brought light and warmth, creating the first of two seasons. While Rairdasril was loved by the people, the same couldn't be said for Sa'mrl, for he brought with him the second season; a time of storms, heavy rainfall, lightning and thunder. What warmth Rairdasril brought, Sa'mrl destroyed. The humans were cold and freezing once again, and Nekeiy and Raeh stood powerless in the face of the their despair. It was only when Rairdasril and Sa'mrl married and gave birth to Eyazethra, Ruya, Yurselu and Atkosath that things changed for the better once more, and the people began to understand the necessity of rain, of seasons and storms.

 

First came Yurselu, who, stomping with his feet, created mountains, hills and volcanos. Proudly, he turned to Eyazethra, but his sister looked at the chaos of the wilderness and didn't like what she saw. She showed the humans how to tame the wildness of nature by ploughing the soil and harvesting food, and how to grow crops, fruits and vegetables to eat. It was also her who taught the people about the importance of rain. The sun and heat alone would destroy the harvest, burn it to ashes; without water raining from above, nothing could grow and Yurselu's lava would destroy their fields. Eyazethra became the guardian of nature and beasts, reminding the mortals that they had to take care of each, for destroying their environment would eventually destroy humanity itself. 

Now the humans lacked only two things: Shelter and protection from the beasts outside. First, Atkosath took stones and wood from his sister's forests, and from them he made walls and gave the mortals homes. Then he showed them how to create tools, powerful weapons and instruments to craft and create, protect and kill. Atkosath himself birthed Ilairhasr, patron of the fishermen, Hildasr, patron of hunters, and Rshuresr, patron of scholars, who each bestowed the humans with the ability to catch fish, hunt and kill animals, and study the world.

 

Last came Ruya. Through them, the mortals learnt about love, kindness, loyalty and charity, about family and sexuality; they forged alliances, became friends and lovers and parents. Just like Rairdasril and Sa'mrl had, they reproduced, and the small species continued to grow. But Ruya's gifts came with a price: Grief and sadness were a silent companion to love. Whenever a family member, a loved one, died, the humans were left broken and depressed, all joy and zest for action sucked out of them. Ruya tried to cheer them up with beauty and joy, but the bodies of the deceased spoiled everything they came in contact with, turning the ground red with blood and contaminating the harvest. 

 

Slowly, the people lost all their passion and drive, and began to waste away. Nothing Ruya tried could free them from their misery and grief. In their desperation, Ruya turned to their siblings, but neither Atkosath nor Eyazethra knew what to do and Yurselu shirked away from the problem. "Let me unite the bodies with nature," Eyazethra suggested, "for once they don't have to see the dead anymore, the mortals will be happy again." But that didn't work. With no time and way to properly grieve and say goodbye, the decomposition only made things worse. "Let me distract them with tools and things to build," Atkosath tried. "They'll forget about the dead quickly." But that didn't work either because the mortals didn't have the energy nor the willpower to craft or build anything.

 

In the end, in spite of their tremendous efforts, it was not a god who made the decisive contribution to solving this problem, but a mere mortal - Ihrane, a young woman whose husband was dying. She had prayed to the gods countless times, begging them to save her husband's life . After he died, she prayed to the gods once more, but this time was different, for Nekeiy listened. The goddess appeared before the woman and lay bloodstained hands on her belly. Soon, Nekeiy said, you'll give birth to a child, a goddess like me. And thus it happened that after nine days and nine hours, Naedh was born with the appearance of a child, wearing a mask. She looked at the humans and saw their grief. "I can help them cope," she said to the other gods after moments of contemplation. "I shall take the souls of the dead and return them to the stream of magic, since they were born of magic and shall become one with it again. There they will be free of pain, of sadness and misery, an integral part of the natural order of the world." The other gods, while sceptical, agreed, unsure how that was supposed to help. Naedh called forth the humans, and made them burn the bodies of the dead. Their ashes served as fertiliser, and their souls were free. Naedh took them to the sky and returned them to the stream of magic, which became known as Saernullnaedh, the realm of dead, kingdom of Naedh, where the souls reside until they are reborn into a new life. To the humans, death was no longer something horrible and with enough time to grieve and pay their respect to the fallen ones, they were able to shake off their sadness and blossomed once again.

 

Time passed, and the humans continued to thrive. As their settlements and craftsmanship grew, the tools Atkosath showed them became too simple, were unable to keep up with the craftsmen's inventiveness, and so, they asked the gods for something more durable and efficient. Atkosath turned to his father and together, from ore and fire, they formed a body and when Nekeiy breathed life into it, proud Islaityth was born, who proclaimed she could solve the people's problems easily. From Rairdasril, she took fire and from Atkosath, she took tools. Then, Islaityth showed the people where to dig in the ground, how to recover earth's valuable ores and how to forge them into better instruments made of tin, lead and copper. The Second Age of Man was ushered into the world with the clank and clatter of the blacksmith's anvil as the people followed Islaityth's lead and showered her with thanks, gifts, love and praise. Islaityth was worshipped as a beautiful and kind goddess, though she was only self-absorbed and vain, basking in the attention of men.

With the help of the new weapons and tools, the human settlements grew enormously. When the people asked Islaityth for something to protect them from the beasts whose territory they had to conquer and populate, she gave them armour, for there was no animal with claws sharp or jaws strong enough to break through layers of metal. Islaityth believed there was nothing that could diminish the mortals' love for her, but she was wrong.

 

In the great ocean below lived a gigantic snake-like creature, Yasnennilr. The gods had prohibited the mortals from attacking Yasnennilr, for its death would lead to dire consequences. But the humans had grown reckless and arrogant, believing there was no beast on earth they could not slay. They hungered for its flesh, which was said to be the most delicious, and wanted its scales, believing they were harder than any metal known to mankind. Ignoring the gods' warning, the humans attracted Yasnennilr and when the serpent examined their lure, they pierced its stomach and cut it open. Neither intestines nor organs oozed out of the wound, but instead demonic creatures that infested earth with the curse of sickness, poverty and tragedy. Slowly, one after one, the humans got sick. Their bodies grew weaker and weaker until they died. "Islaityth, you must help us," they pleaded. "Your armour cannot protect us from the sickness that spreads and kills us all." Islaityth just shrugged. "There's nothing I can do for you."

 

The people turned to the other gods and begged for help, but none of them knew what to do. Nekeiy, goddess of life, knew she could not banish death, for it was unavoidable and every attempt to go against the order of things would have terrible consequences. Her wife, Raeh, could not bear the thought of standing by as their children died. So, every night, Raeh sat next to the dying men and sung to ease their pain as Naedh took away their souls. She sung and sung, and one night from her singing, Danaisa was born. Caring and loving Danaisa saw how the people suffered and wanted to save them. She gathered herbs and leaves from the wilderness, from which she made a cure for the sick. Gently, she nursed the humans back to health. Then, Danaisa taught them how to write, for writing down recipes made it easier to pass them on from one generation to another. She bestowed them with literacy, and they thanked Danaisa for her help and care by praying and offering sacrifices.

 

Not only the mortals loved Danaisa, but so did Yurselu, who was in love with her, but Danaisa fell for a mortal man instead. "It's not right," Islaityth said to Yurselu with disgust in her voice, for she believed the gods to be far above men. "She knows how you feel for her. And yet, she ignores you, choosing this mortal man instead. Gods should not mingle with insects." Little did she know what impact her words would have. Yurselu, driven by rage, disappointment, jealousy and heartbreak, decided to tear Danaisa and the mortal apart, believing then she'd see the truth and marry him. So, Yurselu raised his foot and stomped down as hard as he could. Beneath him, the land was broken into pieces, which later became known as the seven continents, and the people were divided. Danaisa's lover drifted out of her reach.

 

Many people died in consequence of the splitting of the land and Danaisa withdrew, mourning the loss of her lover. Yurselu's attempts at winning her over were fruitless. "You are supposed to be with me," Yurselu screamed at her after she rejected him again. "You belong to me!" In his fury, Yurselu turned on the humans. If they did not exist, he thought, then Danaisa would have no choice but to return his feelings. Volcanos erupted, burying the settlements beneath layers of lava. The ground quaked from Yurselu's wrath, destroying houses, buildings, causing tsunamis and landslides. The other gods watched in horror, but Islaityth was hit the hardest. She believed her careless comment had driven Yurselu to cause mayhem and destruction, and felt it was her responsibility to stop him again. From Cithuil, a metal imbued with all the power of the gods, she forged indestructible chains, with which Yurselu was bound to the bottom of the sea, locked away in an underwater cave.

The mortals picked up the pieces and begun to rebuild their settlements. Separated by frontiers, they slowly formed nations, and the world returned to peace.

 

The time of peace, however, was short. In what became known as the Great War, the human nations battled for territory, for supremacy and resources. With swords and spears, they fought against each other, slaughtering their brothers and sisters, spilling blood. Many perished, their souls flooding the stream of magic and bringing imbalance to the world. The stream twitched and convulsed, threatening to collapse and take all life with it. But it found a way to release magic by transferring it to human bodies, creating the first conductors. Most, unable to withstand the massive energies surging into their bodies, were torn apart and died. Those who survived often didn't even notice something was different. Only a few discovered their new abilities and used them to loot, invade, destroy, wound and kill. The gods were numb from their despair, their senses dulled and hearts heavy. There was nothing they could do to stop the humans, for they had free will, and could do as they pleased.

 

But one day, the gods' numbness was shaken by a cry so loud it made the ground tremble. Confused - until now, the screams of the wounded and dying had been drowned out by the sound of war - they searched for the source of the shout, and found it in a woman named Alliarn. When pillagers came and threatened her settlement, courageous, determined Alliarn faced them with unyielding will. Armed with a simple sword, she stood between her people and the criminals, many of which wielded magical powers. It was clear from the beginning that she stood no chance, but still, she did not back down. Alliarn just firmly held her sword and cried out before charging forward, running straight into her death. The gods were impressed by such daring, such courage and strength of will, and decided it could not go unnoticed. As Alliarn took her final breath, she saw the form of Nekeiy descending and coming down to her. Nekeiy bent over the warrior's lifeless body and breathed life into her, and Alliarn was reborn as a goddess.

 

Alliarn looked at the massacre that unfolded before her eyes, and knew she had to do something. From the waters above she appeared to the humans and spoke to them, her voice echoing across the field of battle. "Lay down your weapons," she commanded and the humans obeyed. "Look around you. Can you see what you have done? Can you see the misery and pain your actions have caused? Nothing good ever comes from violence and bloodshed. You may have won today's battle, but war knows no victory, only pain and loss and death. You may have slain your enemies, but remember that they were your own flesh and blood. Remember that they too have families, people that will cry over their corpses. I beg of you - retreat and tend to the wounded, mourn for the dead and pay your respect. Do not continue this pointless violence."

 

The mortals retreated as they were told. It took many days and nights, but soon, no signs of destruction were left, nothing that would remind them of the Great War. It was then that the gods decided to erase magic from the humans' memory, for they had seen what they'd do with such a gift and wanted to prevent further massacre. However, one nation was spared - the people of an island located in the middle of the waters below. Among the others, they had stood out for their peacefulness and wisdom, and had been the only ones not to take part in the Great War. Their loyalty to the gods had not once faltered and they not once succumbed to temptation. To thank them for their faithfulness, the gods entrusted these people with the secret of technology and magic, because they had proven they were worthy. One human especially captured the gods' attention: Atlantis, who was known for her leadership, courage and goodness. It was her who became the first leader of these islanders, and her who founded the legendary nation that was named 'Atlantis' in her honour.