The forgotten fires of old

The origins

An old man sat around a fire, his gnarled fingers curled upon the crystalline top of his staff. His old cloak was blue, beautiful and simply woven. Within it threads of copper still lingered, though age had turned them nearly bronze. He sat and shuffled within his seat to become comfortable, the aged back not quite meeting the back of the bench. 

"Children" his grizzled voice called them forth. As they moved the creature, deft and ancient removed one gnarled hand from his cane top to beacon them closer, these generations of tomorrow. "Come, Come I will tell you the story of creation" 

Eager wide eyed youths gathered round, even toddlers moving forth warbling with little fat legs and cherubic faces to sit before the old bard much as the generations before them had done. Sand splattered benches sat awkwardly full in the village square as a hush settled over the people. Young, Old, New to the town or having been born here when Kiligore chose to tell a story all within hearing distance listened.  

 "In the beginning Mother wept for the emptiness" his voice painted a barren earth upon which greenery grew but nothing else. There was a vast silence upon her earthen realm, and nothing there within existed. She wept, great tears forming lakes. Pity was fallen upon her heart and father sky whispered down to her, soothing and hushing her fears that she would be ever alone.  

In the night the mother crept from her bed, watching quietly, patiently over the land. She slept not and spring was forever. Those golden locks of hers tumbled forth upon her naked frame. Soft breath slipped from her body. She was delicate in build, no more than a handful and shy. The woman was slender, pale. Her eyes were green, the color from which leaves were stolen. Beneath her feet the grass tickled. Mother stood silently looking out at the stars. Reaching upward soft fingers clasped a single star, pulling it from heaven, from the breast of father sky.

Into her arms she brought it, carressing its glowing light. Slowly would Mother take time to form it, part its ways and create not one, but two slender, small beautiful creatures who she could contend with, talk with, live with. They were to be the first dragons ever made, which is why children" the old man said "dragons are so dangerous. They breath the fire of the stars, it will melt your heart away and steal the flesh from your bones. Beware of the first born race"

 The great man shifted his weight as if it were a burden and then continued speaking. His base vocals traveled along the air, wings of delight pooling along the peoples senses. There wasn't a pause within the room, a singular sigh within the area. No one stirred. The adults knew what was coming. They could recite the tale word for word. "Then she set them free and into the world they ran, playing, digging, collecting their golden hordes. The mother had forgotten that with such beauty came pain...." he would slam his cane into the ground. Everyone jumped at the sparks. Giggles then erupted from the startled children. "Fire became their weapon, and pain the mothers curse." he paused, watching the audience.

"So again, mother reached up to father sky and gathered a star. She pooled it into her arms and cuddled with it, rocking it and hushing it until again two beings were created. In her image they were made, beautiful light things with hearts of gold and  minds of service. Wings of the winds were placed upon their backs. They became angels, beautiful and terrible. They were supposed to balance out the dragons but several of them were seduced by the dark sides of the earth" smoke fluttered from the mans lips, whirling in the air to carress the cheek of one spell bound child who yipped and jumped at the cold, running to hide with his parents who only chuckled.

"They began sleeping within the earth, this generation of angels. Embraced by the wickedness placed there by the Dragons these creatures lost their wings and instead craved the blood of their brothers." he spoke of dark things, things with human eyes that writhed in the sunlight and rose in the moons call. "Vampires, the angels traded their wings for darkness to become vampires. No more did the love of the people call for them. and..." the elder sighed, his grey hair swaying as the wind kissed the mired flesh of his face. "Others mourned and they removed their wings, burning them so that never again would they feel the cold touch of those that had been lost.....there came the humans." the elder knew more than he told. There were great wards, great catastophies now between the races, but this, this was the begining.

 "Those who were outcasts had the tips of their ears cut off, cut off for consorting with  vampires and dragons. These people banded together and fled into the woods, stealing what they could for their lives and whirling among the trees. They lived lives of fullness, wrapping themselves into the forest and claiming what magics they had" his tone became sorrow filled. It was a great loss, this loss of life, this devistation. 

"So these people en tuned themselves with the earth, they became part of father skies children. Father time ignored them, left them alone. Their father lengthened their lives to a considerable end. Still to this day no one knows where the elves go when they age. We don't know, don't understand it but whispers come of an island, an island they live upon." one old gnarled hand was lifted from the orb. Stars seemed to sparkle from his hand and flutter all about them. It was a time of glittering. 

The oldest of generations had seen much magic in these tales but now, now there was only the barest of magic. The bard had become old and due to his age gnarled skin and old bones did not give as much as they once had. He continued to speak even as eyes drifted off him for only moments. They returned quickly as the aged one spoke. "So now we have the angels and the dragons..." his voice drifted off into silence.

"The humans were blessed by mother with grains in seasons, they praised her. So she gave them grain, she aided them with plentiful harvests and they made merry on her harvest. But as they grew in masses they overtook the lands, devouring spaces that were meant to be holy. They killed each other for that land and so mother slept one season.  When she awoke she created her dream. To the edge of the earth the woman walked, her bare feet scarred from that journey. But into the volcano she dropped a part of herself, a piece of her heart and as she wished the Djinn was created. They were magical creatures with delightful laughter and impish ways." children laughed in the background. They would not hear the darker side of this story. Upon breeding with humans the djin created the fae, those lovely beings who would give you JUST what you wished for.  

"And so the Djin, the tiny laughing fae, the angels, the dragons and the elves were created. They knew more than they told her. Each case was riding against one another. They stole the winds from one another, tore into each other to attempt gaining favor with father time. No one wanted to die.  Mother time could not reach father sky to speak to him about this horror. So instead the woman once more reached up to the sky. She plucked two stars from it, reaching forth to sky to pluck two stars. Into one she poured her hope and into the other she poured her spirit. These were reaching ever far. They were beautiful and wise. The unipegs were created....and as soon as she had gone and returned from Father sky the creatures stole them. The creatures were bred and captured, they were used for the wars until...the day one had its wings removed in a fight with a dragon. The poor thing lived, but from then on it was wingless....and so were its children. " the old man paused to watch them in their shock and horror before continuing.

"However mother heard their cries and so they were given a horn, a horn of gold because of their loyalty to her and their love. Thus the unicorn was created. But Mother dis pared her children were slowly becoming corrupted. So she took a cup of heart and a cup of tears to the last volcano. It was in the quiet of night that she poured them in creating the phoenix. The cries of the mother are to this day heard in the great bird. They echo in the skies.." and with that the old man vanished in a waft of ash.