IN THE BEGINNING, the skies and seas were born together.
For a time, that was all there was, a void of stillness and hollow. Then, from this eternity came forth a being of immense power and beauty. She was known as the first Goddess, Tiamat, and with her very first breath, she whispered. "Let there be life."
It is said that the Six Realms were created with her six limbs, each one outstretched into a compass. With her top left hand, she showered a star with praise and crooned, "Let there be light as well as darkness." With another hand, she swept the tides away, dragging her hand along the seabed; she avowed, "Let there be Peace, yet never still." At that moment, Kelp started to grow, and the sea began to tingle. With a third limb, she drew a rune into the air. It flared to life upon command, "Let it be a secret, hidden in plain sight." A forest formed in an unknown location. With her last two limbs, she reached into the sea once more, digging her fingertips deep into the belly of the sand, then with one powerful motion pulled upward, letting the grains run between her fingers like time itself was running out. She commanded it to form as the land clung to the curve of her palm like wet clay, her fingertips forming mountains, each palmar crease shaping the valleys of the great Neil River. And if one stands high enough, atop the highest peak, one can still see the shape of her palm in the ridges of the land. "Let there be hope…" she said softly. "And the fire to defend it." Upon creating the universe's structure and its inhabitants, at last, she pressed all six limbs together. She said, "Let there be eternal rest at last, in the end…"The realm of the dead. Entrusted to the youngest offspring, the Oath-keeper.
One after the other, each of the realms were bestowed upon the remaining four of Tiamat's first offspring. The Humble was given The Aquatic Realm, which he named Atlantis. The Giver was given The Fae Realm, which he named Willowfae. The Peacemaker was given the Celestial Realm, which he named, well…Celestia. They were also gifted fragments of her boundless power so that they might shape and guide the realms to prosperity, united as one. But there was one realm Tiamat kept for herself.The human Realm. Creation worshiped her as a divine entity, though her only wish was to be called…Mother."
Every moon, as was promised, her children would show what they had achieved and still planned to do, though some she refused; nevertheless, the world had blossomed under their care and their mother's strict and watchful eye, perhaps too watchful.
One day, The Giver approached the throne, his voice careful but steady. "Mother, the people of Willowfae find it… Unfair that the other realms can reproduce naturally. Some of us feel as though we are missing out. I propose… if we were to merge with the human woman instead, it may grant us that gift."
"Absolutely not—" Tiamat said with disdain. Rising from her seat, she descended the steps until her shadow fell over him."I wrought you in mine own image. I took not a husband to bear you forth, nor did I covet those who do. Stint thou with thine own wives, and cherish them. Pray, if thou must, unto the Great Tree of Secrets—let it deem thee worthy of a child. But force not my hand to remake what has already been made perfect, nor take from what was granted another. Let the punishment that will fall surely be doom, for you, and the one thou pursued."
The chamber turned cold as the Giver lowered his head. "Apologies, Mother. I meant no insult."
"See, it is not done again—" Timat said, turning from him in dismissal.Little did she know that it had gotten to a point where her power and control were questioned beyond one realm.
"Are the realms truly ours if we need her approval ?" one stated.
That was all it took before treasonous whispers flooded every divine realm, their concerns of her power twisted into resentment.
It was The Peacemaker they turned to, Mārduk Rimat, the eldest and most fearless. He alone had inherited her authority to govern the celestials, and now they demanded that their brother act in their name. At first, he refused. "Cease this treason—" he begged in command, "She is our mother and creator. Her will is our will."
But then came the Night, and with it the lanterns rose into the heavens. A tribute of love and reverence for the gods. Marduk smiled, believing it was for him and his kin, until he looked closer. Each lantern bore not his name, nor his siblings, but Hers. His expression turned cold, and his mind made up.
Her Children marched into her sacred domain in numbers. "What hath one done to earn thy wrath?" she asked them, her voice filled with sorrow. "Why dost thou gaze upon one's mother with such fear?"
"Your reign is over, Mother. For we have outgrown your rule," Marduk declared, "It is time for you to step aside."
Timat's eyes filled with anguish. "Step aside? What has one done but love and cherish you? Thou hast given you life, power, and purpose. How can thou ask this of thy mother!?" Her voice struggled to be heard in a language that they could understand.
"Your mere presence overshadows everything we create." One god said.
"The realms you gave us are now ours to shape as we see fit," said another. "We will not be requiring your assistance any longer."
Tiamat's sorrow turned to anger, her voice trembling with both fury and heartbreak. "Do you not see that it was born from my love for you?" Although her speech may have improved, she still sensed their disconnection. She tried once more to bridge the growing chasm.
"Do not you see…that I love you?"
But they were unmoved.
Marduk stepped forward, "If you will not step down willingly," he materialized a Spear of pure light, his gaze boring into hers. "Then we will take what is ours by force."
The betrayal shattered the great mother's heart. "I gave you everything!" she roared, her voice shaking the heavens and earth."And—this— is how you repay me?!"
Her body began to change as her divine essence overflowed, wrapping her in a cocoon of chaos. Her limbs contorted into monstrous forms; two vast wings of blue grey hue unfurled, along with four talon-ed claws sprouting. With a scream unlike anything that had been heard before, the heavens shook. She then turned her burning gaze upon the realms she had forged for her children, hesitating for a mere second before fire consumed them. It was at that moment that the First Realm War began. One that would brand her throughout history as The Greatest evil, the first Beast and Destroyer of realms.
The battle was recorded to have lasted days; even the combined might of the gods, they were losing. But that was not all; the mortals were barely withstanding her fury. It was only a matter of time before Genesis took place.
Marduk knelt breathlessly, his Spear broken along with his will to fight any longer. His gaze swept over a world of ruin. Victory was nothing but a dream. Just when all hope seemed lost, the gods lent their divine power to Marduk.
"Help us, Brother…" Along with mortals' prayers soared heavenward. "Help us, O gods," they cried. "Grant us victory over the great beast Tiamat sent to punish us all, so that hope may yet endure."
With this act of collective unity, the broken spear was now forged anew, taking shape in reality. Marduk grasped it, his gaze shot up toward the beast. "Goodbye…Mother…" he whispered. His veins glowed with the strength of a thousand wishes of every realm, and with a mighty heave, he cast the sacred Spear across the sky, blazing with kindled fire, striking the fatal blow.
All creation watched as the once beloved primordial goddess plummeted from the heavens, crashing into the realm she had cherished the most. Her divine essence spilled forth across the cosmos. With one final glance at her children, the very ones who had turned against her, she whispered one last decree,
"Let no wings rise pure."
The curse etched itself into the very fabric of her bloodline. Their once vibrant hair colors were edged with darkness. Their beautiful white feathers were inked in black, stretching beneath them like shadow banners of shame. And for the first sinners among them was A fate worse than death. They were branded with titles, Bound to their deeds that day, forced to remember and be remembered, asWrath. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth, Pride, and Lust. Chained to every emotion they carried from there on forth, passing on the consequences of their actions, generation after generation. No matter how good the heart or righteous the cause, decades later, their dynasty remained stained. Until one day, a prophecy whispered among them—
"⟨When the stârres doe fall, and the earth trembleth⟩
✦ From wrath — from fyre — the Vessèl shal ryse ✦
✶ Of the blood of the First Beast, bound by the hand of the Divïne ✶
⟨She shal walk unshackled upon the bridge betwixt Heav'n and Earth⟩
✧ By her will alone, kyngdoms shal crumble ✧"
Some say it was a final act of love for the Primordial Mother—one last attempt to atone, to break the cycle that had begun with her betrayal. However, in a frenzy of fear and desperation, the Council reached a single, fateful decision: they would forge a vessel instead. A being they could control. A destiny they could dictate.
One woman was chosen to bear the burden—and the price. One King was promised all the treasures a mortal heart could crave, selected from among those who once wished upon the stars. The mother perished before her child's first cry. The father reveled in his riches, blind to the curse he had accepted. As for the child, it breathed life into a paradox. In the end, only time would tell whether this creation was a gift of redemption or the beginning of the end.