Prologue

In the beginning there was only the Creator who made the universe and all its stars. The Creator counted what He had made, and when He grew bored, the Creator made the Gods.
There were five Children of the Creator, and each created a world that would be their home. In time, the Gods saw their stagnant worlds and thought to use them to impress one another. Barok, the eldest of the Gods, turned his world into one of fire and molten rock which burned and exploded ceaselessly. Vilora, the only Goddess, had chosen to make a world of shiny gems and precious metals that captured the lights of the stars and shone brighter than all. Anit, a free spirited and well natured God, created his world of winds that both whispered and raged around a core of stillness. Mehu, the most fickle of the Gods, created his world of ice and oceans, that poured rain endlessly from darkened skies.
But there were five Gods, and it was the youngest Marik that hid his world from the others. The four elder Gods warred against one another, each jealous of the word his sibling had created. When they tired of their useless displays of power, they united and turned against the Youngest.
“You are too quiet, Marik,” spoke Barok.
“I have nothing to say, dear Brother.”
“You have not warred with us, Marik,” spoke Vilora.
“It is not my war, dear Sister.”
“You have not shown us your world, Marik,” spoke Anit.
“None have asked to see, dear Brother.”
“Show us now, Marik,” demanded Mehu.
“Of course, dear Brother.”
Marik had watched his brethren as they created their worlds and it was evident in his. Molten fire raged through the Kore, fingers of its power ran through mountains of stone and gem and metal. Great oceans and seas and lakes and rivers broke through the vastness of land. Clouds rained and snowed as winds both great zephyrs and tiniest breeze propelled them through the world. But most impressive of his world was Life. Scale, fur, feather or frond, life teamed on the youngest world. The oceans were filled with all manner of fish, the skies with fowl. Forests and plains were nearly overrun with that which fed on the vegetation… or on each other.
“What have you done?!” cried Mehu.
“I have worshipped our Creator.”
“You have stolen that which was ours!” cried Anit.
“I combined them and made them more.”
“You have created an Abomination!” cried Vilora, who had loved Marik best.
“It is worship in its purest beauty, can you not see that?”
“It shall be destroyed!” cried Barok.
“You cannot!” Marik had begged to deaf ears.

Without air, all the creature died.
Without water, the land was exposed and fire raged.
Without earth, stones and gems and metals melted to the fire.
Without fire, Marik’s world was Empty.
Marik wept as his brethren destroyed his temple.

“It was worship!” Marik despaired.
“It was blasphemy. I cast you out!” Barok disowned his brother.
“It was beautiful!” Marik wept.
“It was disgusting! I cast you out!” Violora disowned her brother.
“It was mine!” Marik pleaded.
“It was stolen! I cast you out!” Arit disowned his brother.
“It was peaceful!” Marik cried.
“It was Korrupt! I cast you out!” Mehu disowned his brother.
Marik wept as each brother and his sister turned their backs to him and left him with the ruin of his world. He wept as he prayed. “Great Creator whom I have desired nothing more than to worship, hear me. Show me a place, Great Creator, where I may build my temple to you in safety, where your worship will be safe from the jealous hearts of my brethren. Please, Great Creator, let me worship you in the best way I know…” Marik fell to his knees on his ruined world and he wept until his consciousness passed.
So it was that when Marik woke, he found himself in a part of the universe wholly unknown to his siblings, or any other God that the Creator may have made. He praised the Creator and began once again to worship in his way.
Marik’s rage and fury became the fires that fueled the world.
Marik’s willfulness and devotion became the earth that was the foundation of the world.
Marik’s tears of sorrow and joy became the bitter seas and sweet rain that was the sustenance of the world.
Marik’s confusion and serenity became the chaotic air that was the breath of the world.
But it was Marik’s faith that would be the spirit that was the true worship of the world.


Over each of his elements Marik had placed a Guardian which he named Aketzyl. Dominion over the waters of the world belonged to Tal. Kor was guardian of the domain above the land, all the winds and air that was the breath of the world. Feisty Ryn was charged with the fires of the world, which suited his temperament well. Juk, a very stolid figure of guardianship, was the one who stood fast over the lands, the metals, the gems of the world. Lastly, there was Nie, guardian of that which was not tangible, the passions, the loves, the spirits, and the soul of the world which became a subdivided world of its own, visible only to those who had a True Vision.
Each guardian created a race of humans to entertain themselves, each named after their Aketzyl, and each with the ability to craft the world in the way that their Lords permitted. The Aketzyl’na (as they were called collectively) lived in the part of their world most suited to them, and served their Aketzyl in all ways of their lives. And so it was that the world lived in relative harmony, with only the minor disputes that are human nature.
With the passage of centuries, the Exile’s power began to wane from the Aketzyl. It came subtlely at first, brief stints of draught, fires that would not be quenched by rainstorms. But soon it became something much more dangerous. The fires would flare up and consume vast expanses of land, while the oceans would rebel against the world, sending great flooding tidal waves against the people that inhabited. The Aketzyl’na were terrified for their Lords, and fought desperately against one another in an attempt to quench out that which they thought was causing their Lord’s distress.
Yet it was Nie, who had stood removed from the world in all the ways of their God, who realized what was happening. He’d felt the dwindling of power slowly increasing throughout the years. He called for his brothers to come attend him in the Center of the World.
“My brothers,” spoke Nie. “The world would not exist were it not for our presences in it, but it also suffers now. Look, Tal, at what your raging oceans have done to the coasts. Ryn, your fires rage uncontrollably, and your people have turned murderous against all outsiders. Juk, your lands shake and crack regardless of faults. Kor, your winds rage through the deserts, blinding my nomads that have made it home. Even I am not free of fault. The peaceful beasts of the world I have lost control of, the dragons rage thorugh the skies, the fae have turned mischievous, and even the humans of my race have lost their Gift, and have become a solemn people who believe in nothing. Brothers, the power of our God has waned in the years, He has spent too long in his silent meditation and because of his neglect we are slowly destroying ourselves.”
There was weeping as their fears were confirmed, that their God and Creator had abandoned them to this world; that they were not the immortal beings that the One had created, but merely play toys of his servant Marikik. “We must find a way to keep ourselves in this world, brothers, and not destroy that which we have been entrusted. Our God shall see us having protected his world, at all cost to ourselves, and he will be proud and come back to revel in this wonderful world He has created. We must, for the sake of this world and all we love in it, lock ourselves away where we can no longer damage it.”
“How brother, do you propose we do so?”
“We will have our people build a stronghold that shall be the home of the Aketzyl of their opposition. Tal will live in Ryn’a lands, Ryn shall live in Tal’na lands, Kor shall live with the people of Mor, and Mor shall live with the Kor’an.”
“And you, brother, who has no opposition in the world?”
“I shall be here in the center of the world, in a holding protected by the magic of you united. Your wills, being that of the corporeal world, should be enough to hold me in stasis should my power surge against the shields. Please, brothers, it is for the world that we do this.”
And so the Aketzyl had locked themselves away in temples to be guarded by the people of their opposition, time would stand still in these buildings, and those that guarded the Guardians of the world would become immortal until a time when the Exile God would come down and free his children.