In the beginning, there was only dust.

For eternity, only darkness and dust.

Yet from darkness comes light,

And from dust comes all.

Great Spirits came forth from the endless dark,

The Glaun-gods, who forged all that there is.

There was Jatyah, who turned dust into rock,

And made the land and the heavens,

There was Lisztun, who created warmth,

And turned warmth into fire.

There was Schalta, who made water from her blood,

And drew it until it became the sea,

And there was Ulthi, who fanned wind with his great wings,

And plucked thought from that wind.

But the thought was imperfect, and feeling sprung forth from Ulthi’s creation.

From feeling came jealousy.

From jealousy came hatred.

And Ulthi slew Vechser, and all was thrown into tumult.

The land became a battleground, where Jatyah was slain by Tovvur.

The sea became a graveyard, where Lisztun was drowned.

The sky became a ruin, that Wotro cracked with his whip,

Ten thousand years of war and blood and murder

From the single fleeting jealousy of a proud glaun

And then, there was nothing.

All creation ruined, all creators killed.

But there was still one.

Her name was Glim, and she brought forth life.

She cleansed the oceans of blood,

She mended the cracked sky,

As she mended all things.

The world became green once more.

But Glim was alone, for there were none like her

So she took her shadow, and ripped it from her back

And from it, she formed the Koss.

She spent time with them, and taught them her ways

She made them great cities,

And inspired their wondrous creations,

And taught them all that she knew of the world.

But Glim grew tired from her teaching

She saw her creation and her progeny

And saw that they were too dependent upon her for all

So Glim made a home for herself, and hid herself

For half the day, she was gone, and half the day she looked down.

But in her absence the Koss grew wicked,

And then sinned, and sinned.

They stole from eachother, and embraced jealousy

They craved power, and embraced hatred

They abused thought, and lied through their teeth

And they raped the land, and stuffed themselves overfull.

And when Glim shone her light upon the world once more

She weeped at what she saw

Her people were rotten

They were spoiled and sinful, and could not be fixed.

So she begged them to give up their ways, and become Glim’s once more

But they scorned her, and ignored her calls,

So Glim weeped more

Her tears poured and poured for years upon years,

The seas rose, and as they rose the Koss perished

Until all the world was one great sea, and none of the Koss survived,

And Glim weeped at her loss,

The loss of her children,

The loss of her world,

The loss of her kin,

But from her tears came Okan,

Who arose from the grave of Lisztun

And when the Leviathan came to see Glim, he spoke:

“Cry no more, Glim, for you have erred.”

“Your children were wicked and sinful”

“But they were not taught hardship.”

“They were not taught kindness.”

“They were given all.”

“You must try once more.”

And Glim agreed, and vowed to start anew.

From her light, she reduced the sea

Rocks came forth once more.

And from the rocks came trees

And from the trees came animals

And Glim formed men to be her new children.

She taught them laughter,

She taught them kindess,

She taught them thought,

She taught them bows, fire, and wheels,

And a great many things more.

But Ocan was unhappy, for Glim did not teach them pain

So he brought a storm,

He brought a drought,

He brought forth monsters and sharks from his sea,

To teach men of what they did not know,

Of pain, and hardship.

Many of men died, many of men drowned

There was much hardship.

So Glim said enough,

She took Ocan, and sent him to the depths

Where he could hurt men no longer,

But she saw the wisdom in Ocan’s acts,

And she said good-bye to men,

And asked them to remain vigilant,

And once more, she retreated

She looks down on the world to this day

To see her children flourish

And grow.