The Creation Story

When the Earth and Sky first crashed into each other,
In an unborn and perpetual moment,
Before time had cursed the world with its presence,
There was a union whose offspring could,
But, of course, would not,
Bear fruits to feed the hunger of the human soul:
The Mistress Aehreurteht and her kingly brother-lover Sonorkeurteht,
Whose arrival started the countdown towards the last tomorrow.

Sonorkeurteht feared his Father the Creator deeply,
For good reason, according to his sister-wife,
As he could not be the King he was meant to be,
Until there was no no other claim to the throne.
His mother supported the usurpation as a reaction,
As so many mistakes begin,
To her The Creator exiling her most beloved children,
Damning them to a fate worse than death:
They were alive and forgotten, buried beneath the collective memory.

The war against The Creator was craven and costly,
After Sonorkeurteht had convinced his brothers and sisters,
That combat was the solution with even a tint of finality to it.
Two of his brothers died at their Father’s hands,
With regret and confusion in equal parts,
Staring back at Him in their final moments,
As what was made in his image was unmade by it.
But as He snuffed out his sons’ light,
The decisiveness of Sonorkeurteht and Aehreurteht struck the fatal blow,
With a poison-tipped spear into the heart of Our Father,
Bathing the world in his blood,
Remaking what had been built,
So that Sonorkeurteht could shape existence according to his will.

What followed was The Golden Era,
In which humanity was born and nurtured,
By Sonorkeurteht’s hand alone,
The same hands fabled to have remade creation,
Alone.
He crafted a stage where his newborn children,
Beholden to him for existence and love,
Would not know fear or betrayal,
Death or immorality,
As He declared those artifacts of His Father’s rule.

What He forgot,
Or rather Who,
Was his sister Aehreurteht,
Who had provided not only the Slaying Spear but also,
The concerted force nedded to pierce Their Father’s ribcage.
He forsake her and replaced His love for Her,
For that of his narcissistic creations:
Pure, protected and purile.
Her hatred for the weak-willed apes,
Whose hearts had never known strife,
Grew in equal measure as His love for her dwindled.
So she turned the earth against them,
Gifting them poisons they would not see as such,
Deliberately crafted to leave them wanting more,
Spreading her corruption across the lands,
In slow, certain strides that would remain unseen by Her Brother,
Until it was too late.

Indeed, it was too late when Sonorkeurteht saw,
The ruin of his perfect people,
As the infection was in their very souls,
Intertwined with it.
He flew into a rage that was befitting of His Father,
And the earth opened up to spit out fire into,
And out of the sky.
He enlisted his brothers to enact the befitting punishment,
Of this most unforgivable betrayal,
So they would know not to question him.
They held her down as Sonorkeurteht grabbed the fire from the sky and,
The no longer molten rocks,
From which He crafted a prison for her:
Encasing her completely, leaving her face for last,
With her final warning, unwavering:
“The world will remember what you made them forget.”
Her cage complete,
The Brothers and Sonorkeurteht hoisted Her on their backs,
So that they could fling her far into the sky,
Until she was seen of and heard from no more.

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