Chapter 2: War of the Dawn
(Many years ago.)
“If you had a bad dream, you should pray to Nocturnok. He is the bringer of dreams, both bad and good.”
Father slipped into the little bed beside Tyrnoth. Even though he’d washed with water from the icy river, the grime of the mines nonetheless clung to his hands, all but covering the starburst sigil of the Garbh.
“Shouldn’t I pray to all the gods, Father?”
“Oh, I think we’d be up all night if you tried that.” Father ruffled Tyrnoth’s hair, smiling as he did. “Or maybe that’s what you want. Was it that bad of a dream?”
“I dreamed that the Luminous Host came, with their Soulswords and Lightchained, and that they killed everyone in Ab-polsk.”
“Oh, my boy. Is that what worries you?” Father’s strong arm wrapped around Tyrnoth and pulled him close. “The Luminous Host is far from here. The war is far from here. You shouldn’t listen to your mother’s stories. When she drinks, she’s… She says things that aren’t for children.”
“I wish she wouldn’t drink,” Tyrnoth said, the sadness in his voice evident.
“Yes, as do I,” Father agreed. Both of them had a moment of silence, worried and sad about Mother. Then Father patted Tyrnoth’s knee. “How about I tell you a story? You like stories about the human world, don’t you? I know one about a great king called Alexander…”
Tyrnoth shook his head. He did like stories about the human world. But, he didn’t want a story like that tonight. “Will you tell me the story of the War of the Dawn?”
“Such an old tale?”
Tyrnoth nodded vivaciously, his messy mop of brown hair just becoming wilder with the motion. He liked the story of the War of the Dawn. It took place back when all of the Aesidhe were on the same side, when the Luminous Host and Tenebrous Horde fought together against something powerful, rather than against each other.
“Very well.” Father pulled the ratty blanket up over them both, so they could snuggle together and forget the snowstorm outside. The warmth from the hearth was best felt in the loft, where Mother and Father slept. Here, by the house’s single window, it could get chilly, though Father always hung his coat on pegs over the window when he came home to try to block out the cold. Nearby, Mother’s old hunting hound, Quorriz, snored on the floor. The whole house smelled of the thin onion stew still bubbling on the hearth. It had been their dinner. It would be their breakfast, and then their dinner again. After getting comfortable, Father began the story.
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“A long, long time ago, the Gods were at war. The war devastated the land and harmed all people indiscriminately. It killed many of the Aesidhe, and the Humans, and the Keenlings as well. So many of the beasts of the forest were killed that no hunter could find prey. And the sea could not even be seen due to the thick mass of dead fish upon its surface.”
“Why were they at war?” Tyrnoth asked.
“The Gods? Ah, because they all wanted to be in charge. They all wanted to be King of the Gods.”
Tyrnoth nodded. That made sense to him.
“Eventually, the smart gods realized that if they kept fighting, there would be nothing left for the one who became king. So they got together and made a decision. None of them would be King of the gods. Instead, they would each invest a portion of their power into making a new god, and that god would be their ruler. So, one by one, every single god poured some of their magic into the Reignchasm, and soon a new god was birthed, one who would be the strongest of all the gods. They named him Luminar, the Lightcaller.”
Tyrnoth shuddered. Hardly anyone spoke the name ‘Luminar’ among the Tenebrous Horde. You didn’t want to give him power by accident. Saying his name could call his attention to you, and that could begin a terrible curse upon your friends and family that might end in the death of those you love. Instead, they always referred to him as Lightcaller.
“But, the Lightcaller was a terrifying being. You see, although the gods had put magic into the Reignchasm, many of them had secretly added spells to force the Lightcaller to serve them alone. These spells warred with each other within the Lightcaller, and drove him to unceasing and malignant madness. The war between the gods had devastated the people and their lands, but the reign of the Lightcaller would likely be the end of it. He turned against the gods who tried to subjugate him, and against the people who worshipped those gods. To drive people to madness, and make them unable to fight him, he flooded the world with light, eliminating all shadows, and driving away restful sleep from every race and beast. Even when they closed their eyes, no comforting darkness could be found.”
Tyrnoth tried to imagine an absence of shadow. He closed his eyes, seeking to understand what those people must have seen, how they must have felt. But, he couldn’t. Shadows lived everywhere, even under the eyelids. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at his Father, hoping he’d continue.
“So all the races gathered together, and with the Gods on their side, they warred against the Lightcaller. For an age they warred, and many died. Even among the Aesidhe, who live forever, they expended so much magic that their immortality was damaged. But, in the end, the Lightcaller was defeated. Defeated, but not killed. You can not kill a god, after all. Instead, all of the gods gave more of their power, but this time, they used it to bind the Lightcaller beneath the land of Anathema. There he slumbers, even now, dreaming his mad dreams, crafting the vengeance he will one day take when he rises again.”
“Will he? Rise again?”
“Oh no, dear boy. The clever gods took his heart and split it into thirteen parts. Each piece is kept in one of the Reignspires. All thirteen are protected by a different god and that god’s Chosen warriors. There is no force that could capture all thirteen at once and return them to the Lightcaller. You are quite safe.”
Tyrnoth smiled a little. His nightmare had been mostly forgotten. And the crackling of the fire in the hearth soothed his fears as it cast thick shadows around the room. As long as there were a lot of friendly shadows, you didn’t have to worry about the Luminous Host being nearby.
“Go to sleep now,” Father said, slipping out of the little bed and pulling the tattered curtain around it to give Tyrnoth some privacy. “And remember not to wake your mother in the morning. You know how cross she is after… After her outings.”
Tyrnoth nodded and turned over on his side. Soon, he found sleep.