Dawn of Legends

And as the heavens stood still, and the earth lay in ruin, the Architect walked among the desolation. His steps were as silent as the void, yet all things trembled in His wake.

And in the heart of the dead land, where the blackened husk of Yggdrasil remained, He beheld her broken form, and she, with her last breath, beheld Him.

And He spake unto her, saying, "For you who have endured these three hundred years of suffering, you have made yourself the true mother of this world."

And lo, He stretched forth His hand, and from His palm radiance poured forth, a light neither of the sun nor of the stars, but of a divine purity unknown to gods or mortals.

And Yggdrasil's withered form trembled, and the scars of war faded. Her roots drank of the Architect's blessing, and from ruin she was restored.

But behold! No longer did her leaves bear the green of life as before, but they shone as radiant white, a light eternal that would forever glow in darkness.

And the land, once blackened and burned, was reborn in His power, its fields and forests clothed in luminous splendor, a beauty unseen since the shaping of the world.

And the Architect spake again, saying, "O 'World Mother,' your children are alive! They are in your womb! For this, you shall be the mother and the bearer of goodness. You shall give birth to many children, and your name shall be a blessing unto them."

And lo, as the words were spoken, the souls of those who had perished in the war were drawn into Yggdrasil's embrace, cradled within her divine essence, awaiting rebirth.

And the Architect spake once more, saying, "I shall bless you with a loyal partner that will be your seed bearer. You shall not be alone in your burden, for he shall walk beside you as the father of those yet to come."

And the World Mother, once broken and weeping, now stood in radiance beyond all beauty. Her maiden form was changed—her hair, once green as the forest, now shone silver-white, flowing like the river of the heavens. Her eyes, once the color of the earth, became pure silver, reflecting the light of creation itself.

And in her hand, there came forth a staff, fashioned from the white branches of the World Tree, a symbol of her rebirth and her dominion over life.

And all who beheld this marvel stood in awe, for no goddess of the heavens could match the beauty of the one who had suffered and endured.

And the Architect lifted His gaze toward the heavens and spake once more, saying, "Rest now, O World Mother, for I shall be your last warrior."

And Yggdrasil, knowing that her burden was lifted, bowed before Him and closed her eyes, entering into a slumber, her roots embracing the land she had sworn to protect.

But the heavens and the earth did not remain silent, for the Gods beheld the Architect's descent, and terror seized them.

And lo, they gathered together in the firmament, their forms trembling with unease, for they knew not His nature nor His purpose.

And they spake among themselves, saying, "What manner of being is this, whose presence shakes the foundations of the world? He is neither one of us nor born of faith. He has spoken to Yggdrasil and blessed her, yet He has never spoken to us. Has He come to cast judgment upon us?"

And fear took hold of them, for though they ruled the heavens by the faith of mortals, they knew that faith alone could not stand before the unknown.

And the Architect, standing upon the land He had restored, lifted His gaze, and the heavens split before Him.

And He spake, His voice neither wrathful nor gentle, but as the weight of eternity itself, saying, "Come forth, you who call yourselves gods. You who have waged war upon My creation. You who have cast judgment upon those who placed faith in another. Come forth, and let us see if you are worthy of the name you bear."

And lo, the confrontation had begun.