The Arrival of the Solém Wanderers
The night softly rolled over the distant hills, marking the beginning of the first day—the dawn of a new age. And there they stood, the three of them, draped in beauty and majesty, the three incarnations of Sagit's will. The first words that echoed off the bare stone walls sprang from Eta’s lips: “Solé ilúmarë!” — Let the light of Solé fill you. And so it came to be.
Solé rose above them, parting the clouds, warming the cold, silent corners of the land and the ground beneath their bare feet. They stood in awe, flooded by a palette of light and color they had never before seen. Then Antar, filled with fervor, called out, “Virenórë Elanthir!” — Create, my dear ones! And they created.
Antar, skilled and creative, carried within him the flame of life and dreamed of great works that would endure for ages. Eta, the soul of nature, longed to hide her magic in the fruits of trees and plants and to populate barren meadows with countless creatures who would thrive in her gentle breeze. Prior was filled with energy, only slightly less skilled than Antar, yet still a remarkable creator. He had the power to set things in motion, and in these days, he bestowed upon Arcana many gifts in the form of materials radiating light. One of these was Malirín—the stone that wielded chaos. Chaos clung to this part of Sagit's soul, and although Prior was not malicious at heart, his judgment was often clouded by it.
Antar walked across the plains, shaping the land with his hands. Mountains and valleys emerged at his touch, the land expanding as if breathing in his will. Eta followed, clothing every mountain Antar formed in a grassy coat and adorning it with trees. She placed homes for birds in their branches and laid fish mothers in the still waters.
Prior, full of boundless energy, dashed between them, setting everything in motion. Each river’s flow, every gust of wind bore his mark—releasing chaos that brought vibrancy to the landscape, giving life to a constant flux. Without him, the sharp rocks would never have worn down their edges, and the water would never have carved the labyrinths that became sanctuaries for many creatures. Tireless, his face gleamed with a desire to master all the matter Antar had shaped. But he noticed that Eta’s flowers turned far more eagerly to the sun than to his wind, and that his rivers dried up under Solé's rays. So he decided to snuff out its mighty flame, or at least partially reign over it.
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At first, Prior kept these thoughts to himself, pondering during moments of rest how he might seize those golden threads of light. In secret, he attempted to convince the birds, whom he had taught to fly, to lift him toward Solé. They politely declined his request, and so he tried to hurl them from the sky with his winds. When Eta saw him, she halted his hand and gazed deeply into his face. “Why do you harm them, Prior? Do you not see that I have given them only fragile bodies? What wrong have they done you that you desire to break their wings?”
To this, Prior replied, “You misunderstand, dear sister; it is merely a test to see how well I have taught them to fly. I gave them this gift, and I can take it back if they prove unworthy of the skies. But your concerns are unfounded, for not a feather has been harmed.”
Although his words reassured Eta, the seed of doubt had been planted, and it began to grow. So she created far greater beings, the Arvéls, known as dragons, who could easily withstand the fierce winds. Majestic and formidable, they ruled over the fledgling realm, imbued with wisdom and courage. Eta cherished them more than any other creation. Antar built for them rocky dwellings from which they could survey the blossoming world below, and thus, only they in their own language can truthfully recount what those first days of Írisië were like.
After many days of toil, it seemed that Arcana had taken a shape with which they were content. Forests wound through the land like green carpets, mountains sparkled with Prior's gifts of gold and other treasures, and Eta blessed the land with herds, honey, and milk. Meadows brimmed with intoxicating flowers, bordered by mountain ranges where waterfalls stirred the spring air. All was in balance, and the earth had healed from its impact. Thus, Antar raised their dwelling atop Mount Atalus, where they rested and rejoiced in the work they had completed.