In the beginning, there was silence.
The melody of life and breath and heartbeats and change lay locked in a noiseless hush. No green shoots worked their way out of rocky soil. The parched earth was sterile, yearning for change.
The folk had long since shunned the scalding rays of the sun, instead choosing to burrow inside the mountain they called Mother.
And too far away to fathom, another world shattered and died, expelling two refugees who found their way to our shores. The arrival of the Lord and Lady pierced the quiet—their resonant Songs brought to life the hidden power of Earthsong. They were the Firsts.
They sang the grass and seeds and trees into being. They swelled shriveled streams into rivers, and stymied the will of the desert.
Curious, the folk came out of their caves, little by little, to bear witness to the rebirth of the land. Some were suspicious of the newcomers, but others, the young especially, were awestruck by a magic so different from their own.
And it came to pass that the Lady bore the Lord nine children, each as different from one to another as sea is to soil. Each with a Song rivaling the beauty and power of their parents. And they were the Seconds.
These children took wives and husbands from among the folk of the caves, now brought into the light. The fruit of these unions was plentiful, some bearing rich and varied Songs and some harmonizing the echoes of the caves. And they were the Thirds.
The Lord and the Lady ruled their brood with steady hands and hearts overflowing. And all was well.
For a time …
—EARTHSINGER CHRONICLES