“Aras, Vrassas ir, khur Tyisici, Erineas cujide.”
|Category: Left-wing Utopia|
Regional Influence: Apprentice
Location: the South Pacific
Revari Erinead: The Myths and Legends of Erinor - Hremin Tacirid: The Revaran Creation Account (Chs. 1 & 2)
Hremin Tacirid - The Revaran Creation Account.
Translated from the Old Erinoran by Qenara Fisa-Vrasso, from a copy of Decsin Revara dated to approximately 590 CE, which is held in the library of the Mena Tacirid, Ciria.
Jusin ura’si: Avana - Chapter One: The Beginning.
In the beginning there was Tacino, the Creator.
Tacino had created many worlds. He put all his love and all his skill into every one and each was good and right and perfect. But when he was finished in his work he found that it did not satisfy him and that he desired only to create from nothing once again. Each new creation was a marvel, full of things that had never been before, but nothing was new to Tacino for he knew them full well before he had even begun. And so the universe filled with world after world, each one shining down upon the others, each aloof, aloft and alone. Tacino wandered between them and, unable to find joy in any of them, he ached to start over once more.
So, one day, Tacino made beings like himself, those able to create from nothing at all and then to shape their creations at will. But he granted them only a measure of his full power, that they might not know in advance all that they would achieve. He made six in all, three male and three female and he called them Revanim, the Ones who Dream, for they would only be able to imagine what they might create, not see it in all its fullness.
The first Revanim were Ratyano, Tyaniro and Ranino, Vicara, Syatya and Jera. They looked upon Tacino in the moment they were created and at once imagined that they did not need him and so, at once, they were alone. They had separated themselves from Tacino and now formed a world without him. Though the light of Tacino’s many other worlds still shone upon them, they were six alone and no more.
At first, this world had no form and, though the Revanim could imagine it any way they wanted, they could not settle upon a design between them. Thus, they made more Revanim, beings more lowly than themselves, who nevertheless possessed the skill to sculpt creation to their will.
And they sent them out
In twos and threes
To sculpt the mountains,
To roll out plains
And pour out seas.
Each did as they saw fit, designing according to their hearts’ desires, yet, when their work was seen as a whole, it was rich and ordered and beautiful.
At the end of the day, they came together and admired what they had created. They agreed that it was good and, for a time, it was.
For many days the Revanim enjoyed the world they had created, exploring its immensity and discovering the work of their kin. One would show another a waterfall, or a hummingbird or a whale and the other would smile and clap their hands and sing a song. And so, piece by piece, they learned the wonders of their world and, day by day, their joy grew less. Soon, one waterfall was much like another, or too much like a brother’s, or not beautiful enough, or too beautiful by far. The Revanim learned to be bored and possessive, to look down at some and rage, jealous at others. One by one, then two by two, then more and more as the days passed by, they split and schemed, whispered, gossipped and conspired.
And when the whispers stopped, they fought.
Jusin asa’si: Marcar Revanirs - Chapter Two: The Wars of the Dreamers.
Word against word, will poised against will, the dreams of one or the dreams of many; it mattered not, for each cast their shadow on another. Mountains rose and fell in an instant and the flatland rippled and buckled and cracked open. Forests were deluged by oceans, whilst the seas boiled dry. The clouds roiled and spat fire and the sky shattered to rain down shards of ice upon the earth. Order fell to chaos and beauty to dust and rust and death.
Revanim fell to be crushed by their own creations or scorched by winds of change, suffocated by nothingness. Lovers watched each other die, or themselves killed out of revenge, out of jealousy, out of the passions of the heart and the deep, unquenchable bloodlust of the corrupted soul.
But there were times of peace: months of impassioned, yet bloodless debate when Ranino stepped forward to end the violence, nights that seemed like years when Vicara would sing and all would listen and weep for their sins, moments when Jera would speak and all would be united in hope at the possibilities of the future. The six could sway the many for a time and each time it seemed they had succeeded at something more permanent, the chance of reconciliation.
But then they would have to step away, and in their place would come some slight, some disagreement, som dark emotion to start the violence all over again.
Factions formed, grew, splintered. Some claimed to follow Ratyano, others Tyaniro. Others still supported Syatya and claimed her birthright as their own. The six themselves, however, remained truly neutral and grew tired of their children’s squabbles.
A council was held, known as Hrasyin Jranid, to determine what could be done to end the fighting. The six agreed that all other options had been exhausted and that the world was from the endless fighting. Ratyano proposed to banish the lesser dreamers and the other five agreed, although Syatya was reluctant.
So the six began work on a gateway from their world to Tacino’s creation. It was unlike anything they had ever done before and it took them many days and nights of strenuous toil. Vicara would sing to them from time to time, filling their minds with images of hope. Jera would dance or chant and they saw the purpose of all they had made unfolding before them along the path they had chosen. Ranino worked through their plans and Tyaniro carried all these things to Ratyano, who held them together until they were ready to be made into reality. Only Syatya resisted, as she was always wont to do, but the others accepted this of her and thought nothing of it.
By dawn on the forty-first day, the gateway was complete. It towered above the landscape and gleamed wondrously in the morning night, for it was made of gold and precious stones. The Six looked upon it and thought that this was the greatest thing they had ever made.
Then Syatya stepped forward, opened the gateway, and let the Nightmares in.