The Story of Creation
It is said that our world will end the way it began: with fire.
At first, the goddess forged ten daughters, all of them meant to be companions for one another. Things were perfect for a while. They dwelled together in the holy lands and were at peace—until one day, the last of the daughters grew restless.
This girl, Vayelle, didn't fit with the other nine. She was made from a different sort of power than the rest. She didn't find peace in nature or pleasure in worshiping at the altar of the goddess. Despite all that she had, she demanded more from the world. And she wept for things she'd never possessed, experiences that were never meant to be hers.
Out of pity, the goddess offered to create an eleventh daughter, a sister who could be a friend to the girl. But Vayelle declined. Another sister would not satisfy her.
She wanted something deeper. Vayelle wanted what the lions had. What she saw amongst the birds and the wolves and the deer. She wanted affection, protection, and, what is more, she wanted love. A deeper, rooted sort of companionship, unlike any her sisters shared. So, the goddess said that she would form for her a new companion.
And a deal was struck.
Since the love of the goddess and her sisters was not enough, Vayelle could have the love of another, but she would not be allowed to remain in the holy lands—in the direct presence of the goddess. Instead, Vayelle would be cast out. But she would have what she had demanded.
This would have to be enough to sustain her.
The goddess spoke to Vayelle, saying, "Love of this kind comes with risk. Daughter of mine, this creature will have free will, just as all of my daughters do. Perhaps its desires will not always align with your own."
It was then that the goddess forged a man from fire and blood. She named him Erydi. This man, the first of his kind, would be the father of the ten holy nations. The beginning of what would be the end of that first holy place.
And he did have his own will. Much to Vayelle's dismay, he fell for one of her sisters instead. That girl's name was Batya.
Unlike Vayelle, Batya was contented. She saw the world as a glass meant for drinking, and she savored each and every sip. While Vayelle had needed a man to complete her happiness, Batya needed only herself and the goddess. She was the sort that could only ever be loved—and so, Erydi loved her.
Meanwhile, Vayelle was cast out of the holy lands and made to wander the darklands alone. Erydi was not bound to her and although he could have chosen to leave, too, the bargain Vayelle had made with the goddess could not force Erydi's heart toward her. The goddess kept her promise, but Erydi chose Batya.
Vayelle wept our very seas into existence.
When Batya and Erydi were blessed with a child, Vayelle was furious. She broke her vow and crossed into the holy lands. Vayelle begged her other eight sisters for help. She said that together they might convince the goddess to cast out Batya and Erydi. After all, Vayelle had nothing and Batya had everything. The two of them should be the ones to wander the darklands aimlessly. Some agreed with Vayelle out of pity. Others did not.
Vayelle's despair soon turned to bloodlust.
One night, as Batya was sleeping, Vayelle killed her in her bed and stole away her baby. Erydi chased Vayelle for days and finally found her on the very edge of the holy lands—almost into the goddess-forsaken territory of her exile. It was at that moment, just as Erydi reached her, that she slit the throat of the babe. Today, red oak trees bloom where its blood once spilled.
The anger Erydi felt was unparalleled. It rose the Demarti Mountains up from dry, cracked earth. Our land was split because of it. The goddess stepped back from humanity then, her own grief swelling to create the moon and stars. Her heartbreak forged our sun. With her presence removed from the world, everything was cast into shadow and confusion.
Fighting ensued. The other daughters took sides, created alliances. Vayelle struck deals and told lies. Sister turned on sister. There seemed to be no end in sight.
But just as the world was about to succumb to holy fire, the goddess turned her face to her daughters once more. She separated our world. The land was severed into pieces so the fighting might cease. Erydi and Vayelle were cast apart from one another, kept away by the range of mountains he had created with his wrath.
The remaining sisters were dispersed throughout our continent.
This is how the ten counties were created. One county for each of the nine daughters and one for Batya and Erydi's dead child—Gazda. Vayelle was left with nothing but the darklands. This place was a home that could never truly be a home. Her people have been fighting to reenter the holy lands and claim what they believe to be theirs ever since.
But our story of creation doesn't end with Vayelle's fate. We are the chosen people. Our fate is not hers. It is well known that the goddess punished her daughters with shortened lives and worrying hearts, but she did not leave them lonely. Our world was created through the destruction of that first world. Forged from its ashes. To prevent what had happened with Vayelle, Batya, and Erydi, the goddess formed more men and women—all of them unblessed and unmarked by her hand.
Erydi's heartache over Batya and her child did not go unseen and, to soothe that ache, the goddess gifted him a prosperous country. She gave him reign over all ten counties and bid him to take another wife. The goddess promised that the kingdom would flourish under his rule. His throne would always be filled by a mighty queen.
It is written in our texts that when the eldest son of Erydi's bloodline comes of age, the goddess will send him ten girls, all of them goddess-touched with abilities to rival one another. As it is written, so it has always been. It is from this group of girls that the next queen comes.
In that first generation, this promise was a blessing and a curse. How was the son of Erydi to choose who should be queen? Since the mark of the goddess's hand had been left on each and every chosen girl, it seemed that no mere mortal could decide who should be crowned. The choice ought to be left to the goddess, or so the most devout worshipers said. It was because of this that the first son of Erydi formed a competition. The Culling. From this fight to the death our next queen will arise.