Dawn of Legends

And it came to pass that the Gods of the west, filled with wrath and fear, sent forth their warriors from the heavens and the earth against Yggdrasil.

And they gathered their might, calling forth legions of divine soldiers, celestial beasts, and champions forged by faith. From the heavens they descended like a storm, and from the lands they rose like an unrelenting tide.

And Yggdrasil, the World Tree, beheld them from her sacred grove, and she knew that this day would be written into the annals of history, a day when gods and mortals would clash in a battle that would shake the very bones of the world.

But she was no warrior. She was as a mother shielding her children from an abusive father, a shelter in the storm, yet unable to raise her hand in violence.

And the people who had sought refuge beneath her branches saw the host of the heavens descending, and their hearts burned with defiance.

And they spake among themselves, saying, "Shall we cower in the shadow of our mother, or shall we stand and fight? If we abandon her, then we are unworthy of her shelter. If we flee, then we leave her to the wolves."

And so, they stood, men and elves, dwarves and demi-humans, those who called Yggdrasil their mother and their protector.

And they took up their arms, fashioned from the last gifts of the forest, and they prepared to lay down their lives, not for conquest nor glory, but for the one who had given them a home.

And Yggdrasil, seeing their resolve, fell upon her knees in the heart of the forest, and she lifted her voice in silence to the heavens, calling out to the Architect, whose will was above all.

And she spake in her heart, saying, "O Architect, thou who seest 1all things, who watchest without speaking, I beseech thee—if thou hast created me for a purpose, then grant me the strength to protect those who have placed their faith in me. If I am to perish, then let it be known that I did not abandon my children."

And in that moment, the voice of the Architect came unto her, not in thunder nor in the shaking of the heavens, but as a whisper that echoed through her soul.

And He spake, saying, "I shall not aid thee. Endure, Yggdrasil. Endure and suffer, for only through suffering shall thou come to understand what it is to be the World Tree. Only through this trial shall thou know the weight of being a mother to the living."

And lo, the heavens remained silent, and no divine hand came to stay the wrath of the Gods.

And Yggdrasil, her heart heavy with sorrow, arose and spread her arms as a barrier, her roots stretching to shield her people from the coming storm.

And then the war began.

The earth trembled beneath the march of celestial warriors, and the skies burned with divine fire. Blades of light clashed against the steel of mortals, and the forests of Yggdrasil were turned into battlegrounds soaked in blood and magic.

For three hundred years, the war raged without ceasing.

The warriors of the Gods came in endless waves, and the mortals, though valiant, fell by the thousands.

The elves, once noble and long-lived, now dwindled in number. The dwarves, whose hands once shaped wonders, now lifted their hammers for war. The humans, ever fragile yet enduring, perished in countless scores.

And Yggdrasil, standing amidst the chaos, felt the agony of every death, the sorrow of every lost soul.

And she wept, not with tears, but with the slow decay of her once-vibrant lands.

The forests burned, their green splendor reduced to blackened husks. The rivers ran dry, choked with ash and the remnants of the fallen. The sky, once bright with the light of the heavens, was now veiled in smoke and sorrow.

And Yggdrasil, the mother of the lost, bore every wound upon her soul, her roots weakened, her form withered, yet she did not fall.

And on the three-hundredth year, the last battle came.

The mortals who still stood gathered for a final stand, their blades dulled, their bodies broken, yet their spirits unyielding.

And the Gods, seeing the land now desolate, beheld Yggdrasil, who no longer shone with the light of life but stood blackened and hollow, her form now a monument to despair.

And they declared among themselves, "It is done. The World Tree is no more. The mortals who placed their faith in her are dust, and we remain. Thus, we have prevailed."

But as they turned to depart, lo, the heavens trembled.

And from the sky, a great radiance descended, neither of fire nor of lightning, but of a majesty beyond the comprehension of gods and mortals alike.

And the heavens opened, and from them came One whose form was veiled in light, whose presence shook the earth and whose steps silenced all things.

And He descended upon the dead land, where the ashes of the world lay thick upon the ground, where the silence of the fallen cried out without voice.

And though His face was hidden, the power of His presence caused the Gods to tremble.

And lo, the Architect had come.