Creation Myth

Once, before the Great Sands stretched as far as the eye could see, our land was a lush, fruitful garden, its air filled with the rush of many rivers running wild through it. There, our mothers' fathers lived in peace, wanting for nothing. No hunger gnawed at our children's stomachs. No thirst parched their throats.

The Sun Himself was gentle and kind, shining its benevolent warmth upon our people in the Garden. We were as children, walking innocent and naked beneath Ab's rays. The Moon watched over our people in the dark. Umm's light was a constant glow that drove away night terrors that lurked beyond the Garden's farthest marches.

But even in comfort and plenty, the seeds of greed bloomed within our hearts. We began to covet our brothers' riches, our sisters' strength and even our neighbors' wives. These sparks of greed that our hearts to the Djinn, who were once among the highest of the heavens' spirits. They danced in the skies with Ab and Umm, but they were jealous of the benevolence and love that was showered upon us, as a gentle rain from the heavens.

So it is that the Djinn came down from the heavens, dulling their own light and walking among us to whisper words that fanned the spark of discontent into a growing flame of anger and dissatisfaction. A shadow began to spread within the garden, as foul things crept in from its borders. They slunk beneath the tall trees, concealing themselves from Umm's light, only to burrow into dark earth when our Father Ab rose in the morning, fouling the soil with their presence.

We shook our fists at our Mother when the bountiful fruit trees began to moulder and rot before our very eyes. We shook our fists at our Father when our children fell to pestilence. Some few began to erect temples, to preserve those things which were holy, though they were persecuted by their brothers and sisters. The Djinn spoke to our people of the arrogance of those that had begun to call themselves priest and priestess, and their poison fell onto fertile ground.

Umm and Ab watched their children's beauty and innocence diminish, even as they watched their cherished Djinn bring themselves low in their hatred and envy. The Mother and Father began to withdraw from our world, leaving us to our own devices… and again, we shook our fists. We blamed our brothers and sisters in the temples for this, plotting their destruction. Blood was shed and holy altars were overturned, though none could touch the greatest secrets that remained locked far beneath the temples, hidden in great, deadly mazes.

It was this last that enraged our father and sadded our mother. Ab's fury scorched the last of the garden's bounty, searing the pestilence from the land. The dying screams of our fathers and mothers fell on deaf ears, as flesh melted from bone and bone charred to blackened dust. The Djinn were set afire in our Father's anger, and still they burn, forbidden to return to the heavens and forbidden also to walk upon the land without their Father's fire marking them as the great traitors.

Only those faithful who had taken shelter in what remained of the temples survived, huddled together in terror. At last the screams of the dying faded. At last the crackle and roar of the blazes diminished, to be replaced by the soft brush of rain over the ground. When they looked out, they saw the steaming remains of their home, bare of life and bare of joy. Our Mother cried her tears over the last of her children, quenching the last of the fires, leaving them with a bounty of water by the end of that night, from which they drank and were grateful. When Ab arose, his anger still burned hot, and the water vanished before their very eyes, along with their hope of survival.

But when the Sun descended for the night, those of the Djinn's brethren who remained in the heavens whispered their secrets unto some few among those who survived. The Stars told of water to the east, and so it is that our people left the temples and traveled east beneath the faded light of the Moon, hiding themselves from the Sun's anger in the daylight.

At last, with the temples far behind them, our people came to sudden valley in the sweeping sands of the desert. There, they found that Umm's tears had gathered, and some small remnant of their garden had sprung up about it. It was not much, no, but they were grateful and sang our Mother's praises.

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