Of Fenix & Her Children

None can truly say how the world came to be, or for how long it has hung beneath the heavens, but in the West it is thought that in the beginning there was nothing but darkness. Darkness upon darkness upon darkness: Deep waves of night without end, stretching beyond the comprehension of man. And all was held fast by the great dragon, Hydra, the Queen of the Eternal Night.

And yet, within the dragon’s coils a single glimmer of light burned, and this was Fenix, the Firebird, first star of the night. But though she was the beauty of the heavens, Hydra saw in her only the marred perfection of her darkness, and she vowed to destroy the Firebird. For an age unknown they contested with each other, until finally Hydra’s poison fangs found their mark, and she threw her foe down and crushed her beneath her weight and the Firebird burst into fragments without number.

It was a hollow victory. For now the night sky glistened with the light of the stars, and Fenix rose from death as the brightest light of the heavens, bringing forth the first day, and Hydra was cowed by it. In time she crept into the sea, sinking down in the depths where the Firebird’s blinding rays could not reach her, and there she remains until the end of days. Her reign of darkness had at last come to an end.

And it came to be that Fenix gave birth to a child, and that child was Sphinx, the Lioness, the Mother of All Living Things, and she carried the secret fire of creation deep within her womb. From her bounty all would be nourished, and the Firebird made ready to bless the first of her daughter’s children.

But the Firebird had also given birth to a son, a twin to the Lioness, and he had been born separate from his sister, and incomplete, and the mark of death was upon him. His name was Wulf, the skull moon, whom we call the Watcher, and despite being a pale reflection of his sister, he was proud and vain. He adorned himself in white, and bathed in the reflection of his mother’s rays, and after a time he began to believe that they were his own. He chose the night as his dominion, for only then could he outshine his mother.

Wulf looked on his sister with envy, for he too longed for children. Yet, because he had been born without the secret fire, he was sterile. This hurt his great pride, and soon he began to devise a way in which he might bring ruin upon his sister’s children.

And so Wulf whispered to Hydra, for it is well known that the skull moon has always been able to sway the sea, and he stirred her anger with honeyed words and reminded her of the hate she had for all of the works of the Firebird. And as the great dragon shook with rage so too did the seas, until her wrath had become a storm the likes of which the world will never see again, wracking the Lionesses’ body as she struggled in the act of labor. And as she writhed, great fissures opened, even beneath the sea, and there was born Sphinx’s first child: Pestis, the Creeping Doom.

And since he had been born of envy and malice, Fenix cursed Pestis, and he became the Prince of All That Crawls In Darkness. His children were thoughtless things with no concept of good or evil, and it was their desire to reproduce and multiply, devouring each other as they did so, and shortly they covered the world with their numbers, and Wulf laughed to see how pitiful his sister’s children truly were, and the Lioness wept.

But the Firebird heard her daughter’s cries, and so she flung a great lance into the heart of the crawling host. The lance head buried itself so deep in the earth that the secret fire burst forth in a hail of ash and flame, and the sky became as night, and all but the hardiest of Pestis’ loathsome brood were wiped from the face of the world. Wulf saw this and trembled, and hid himself within his sister’s shadow, which he does still to this day whenever the Firebird grows angry with him.

When the darkness was lifted, the Lioness gave birth to her second child, and the Firebird blessed it with the greatest of her gifts. For to this day the children of Chloris, whom the Telchines call the Emerald Maiden, can live without murder, and receive their sustenance from the waters of the sky, and the light of the Firebird. Slowly, they too multiplied, bringing beauty wherever they spread, and the Lioness looked on them with love.

This the Watcher could not abide, and so he whispered to the children of Pestis, age after age, filling them with his envy and spite. And so the children of Pestis began to feast upon the children of the Emerald Maiden, and it came to be that some among them grew, and grew, and grew, growing ever larger and more powerful, until at last the first of the cold, scaled sea dragons rose from the depths to lay claim to the world. They feared none, and once again the Lioness was awash with blood.

And as it had been before, the Firebird took pity on her first-born child, and reached for her mighty lance once again, her eyes full of tears for the children of Chloris. But before she could cast it, the Watcher stood in her way, and the world fell into the darkness of the first eclipse.

And it was then that Wulf made a pact with his mother: He would tell her how she might rid the world of the dragons while sparing the children of leaf and tree, if she would grant him three boons. And, though she knew the Watcher did nothing out of kindness, she consented.

Wulf smiled, and reminded her that she had borne the poisoned kiss of the Queen of the Night and been reborn. She need only do so again, letting the world fall into darkness and cold, and the terrible children of the sea would wither and die. But the children of Chloris would merely sleep, and they would awaken with the Firebird’s return.

As for his boons, the Watcher first asked that he rule that time when the light of his mother waned, the King of Winter for time everlasting. Next he asked that his sister bear children of the secret fire so that they might survive the cold. And lastly he would have these children do him homage, for he could never have children of his own.

And the Firebird saw that there was wisdom in Wulf’s bargain, for until he was appeased he would forever strive to bring misery to her first child, and so she consented to the bite of Hydra’s fangs, and the world’s first winter began.

Rain turned to snow, rivers to ice, and Wulf ruled over the first kingdom of frost. And as promised, the dragons died in droves until all but a few were felled by the deadly cold. Those that survived returned to the sea, and did not trouble the world for a long age thereafter.

And when the first spring came, the Lioness gave birth to her third child, Cernas, the Hunter, whose offspring were both blessed and cursed, for though they were truly the beloved child of Sphinx, they were also forever indebted to Wulf.

The Watcher both loved and envied his chosen children, and to them he gave mixed blessings. To each of them he gave a special gift, so as to set them apart from one another, and he taught them his tricks and slights, so that they might thrive through the use of their wits. But many of the children of Cernas he filled with the desire to shed the blood of their brothers, and cursed their wombs with the Watcher’s curse, so as to punish them for possessing what he could not. And so the children of Cernas were doomed to shed their hot blood to amuse the Winter King.

But when the time came to bless mankind, the Watcher found that he had but one gift left, and it was one that he was loathe to give away. For, as the Firebird had lain in the sleep of winter’s embrace, he managed to pluck a single feather from her wings, hoping that in its flames he might learn the secret of creation. This feather he was forced to surrender, and so the first men were taught the secret of fire, and ever since then they have used it to cheat the Watcher’s winter, and to forge the tools that have made them master of all of the children of Cernas.

And so, then as now, the men of the West worship Fenix, the Firebird, above all other gods, and call for blessings from Sphinx, the Lioness, mother to all. And always will men spit curses at Hydra, the dread serpent that lies deep beneath the waves. But, when they drink, they raise their cups to Wulf, The Watcher, if only out of fear . . . And perhaps that does not displease him.