The halls of the Mother Goddess' temple stood vast and luminous, adorned with golden patterns that reflected the soft glow of the ever-burning torches. The First Star, the goddess without a name, sat upon a throne of polished ivory, gazing at her gathered people. Though she did not claim rulership, her presence alone commanded reverence.
Her people—faithful and devoted—had come with urgent news. Three foreign groups had arrived, each bearing the banners of distant lands, each speaking of new gods that demanded worship.
The temple doors creaked open, and the first delegation stepped forward. They bore the sigils of Orthonis, the western land where mighty gods ruled from their celestial heights. Draped in white and gold, their priests carried scrolls filled with the tales of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.
An elder priest, his voice steady, spoke first.
The Words of the West
"O' people of the great goddess, we bring tidings from Orthonis! Our gods, mighty and eternal, govern the heavens, the seas, and the underworld itself. Their will shapes the world, their strength guards the land. It is through them that empires rise, that kings rule, that storms are calmed and fates are sealed!"
He unrolled a scroll, reading aloud:
"Zeus, the King of the Gods, grants law and order. Poseidon, the Lord of the Seas, commands the waves. Hades, the Keeper of the Underworld, judges the souls of the dead. Worship them, and you shall know power beyond measure."
Murmurs spread among the goddess' people. Some listened with curiosity, while others narrowed their eyes in silent defiance.
Then, from the far north, another group stepped forth. Clad in thick furs and bearing weapons of iron, they carried runes etched into stone slabs—the teachings of Asgard, where Odin, Thor, and Loki reigned.
The Words of the North
A warrior-priest raised his voice:
"Your goddess is great, but she stands alone. In the cold and bitter north, the gods do not rule alone but together! Odin, the Allfather, sees all and guides his people with wisdom. Thor, the Thunderer, protects them with unmatched strength. Loki, the Trickster, reminds us that fate is ever-changing."
He struck his staff against the stone floor.
"The gods of the north do not demand servitude! They fight alongside us, as we fight for them. Take up your weapons, people of the goddess! Let your faith be a warrior's faith! For only the strong shall carve their names into history!"
Some of the gathered people nodded in approval. Others whispered, debating among themselves.
Then, from the scorching lands of the south, a third group emerged. Their skin was kissed by the desert sun, their robes flowing like shifting sands. They carried sacred texts, inscribed in ancient symbols—the teachings of Kemet, the land of Ra, Osiris, and Anubis.
The Words of the South
A high priestess stepped forward, her voice smooth as silk.
"You speak of gods who rule the heavens, of gods who wage war. But do you know of the gods who balance life and death? The gods who weave the cycle of existence itself?"
She lifted a golden ankh.
"Ra, the Sun God, is the giver of life. Osiris, the Judge of the Dead, ensures justice beyond death. Anubis, the Guide of Souls, leads the departed to their final rest."
She turned to the First Star, bowing deeply.
"Great goddess, your people are wise, but they stand at the crossroads of belief. Why not join us? Embrace the gods who understand life and the afterlife alike."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
The Mother Goddess sat unmoving, her expression unreadable. Before her, the fate of her people hung in the air like a blade on a fraying thread.
Would they remain steadfast in their devotion? Or would they be swayed by these new gods, these foreign beliefs?
Her people turned to one another, whispering, questioning.
And in the far distance, the eastern lands watched in silence, choosing not to interfere—for now.
The chamber grew tense as the three envoys turned their words not toward the people, but against each other. The First Star, seated upon her ivory throne, remained silent, her golden eyes watching as the tension in the court thickened like a gathering storm.
The Messenger of the West
The priest of Orthonis stepped forward, his face stern. He raised his scroll as if it were a decree from the heavens.
"It is clear that the gods of Orthonis are supreme!" he declared. "Who else but Zeus commands the heavens? Who else but Poseidon stirs the seas? Who else but Hades judges the dead? Your gods, northern and southern, are but shadows of our divine lords!"
The warrior-priest of Asgard scoffed, crossing his arms.
The Messenger of the North
"You speak of law and order, but what of war?" he retorted. "Your gods sit on thrones, while ours take up the sword! Odin sacrificed his eye for wisdom, Thor wields Mjölnir to protect his people, and even Loki, the Trickster, teaches us that the world is not as simple as your scrolls claim!"
He took a step closer, his voice rising.
"If your gods were truly mighty, they would not need temples of gold! They would walk among their people, guiding them in battle, in honor, in the forging of fate itself!"
The priestess of Kemet, who had remained composed, now raised a delicate hand, silencing the two men.
The Messenger of the South
"You both argue as if power is all that matters," she said, her voice smooth but firm. "Yet neither of you speak of balance. Without balance, there is no life, only endless war and tyranny."
She gestured toward the First Star.
"The gods of Kemet do not seek only to rule; they ensure the order of existence itself. Ra's light nourishes the land, Osiris judges with fairness, and Anubis guides souls to their rightful place. Your gods seek dominion, but ours seek harmony."
Her words were met with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.
The warrior-priest of the north smirked.
"Harmony?" he echoed. "The world is not built on harmony. It is built on strength. Only the strong decide what is 'just.' Your gods may guide the dead, but we gods of the north shape the fates of the living!"
The priest of Orthonis scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.
"You both speak of ideals, yet your gods are incomplete! Ours rule all—sky, sea, and underworld. There is nothing beyond them! You bring only fragments, but we offer the whole!"
The voices of the three grew louder, their words filled with challenge and disdain.
The people of the goddess' land murmured among themselves, some drawn to the wisdom of the desert gods, others to the strength of the north, and yet more to the order of the west.
But through it all, the First Star remained silent, her gaze never leaving the heated debate before her.
She listened.
She watched.
And in the quiet, her people leaned in, whispering words only she could hear.
The grand temple trembled with the echoes of shouting voices, the clashing of fists against flesh, and the cries of those caught in the struggle. The three messengers—one from the west, one from the north, and one from the south—had abandoned words, their tempers flaring into violence. Their followers, too, engaged in the brawl, pushing, shoving, and striking each other with their bare hands.
Yet the First Star remained seated, watching in silence.
Her attendants turned to her, waiting for her command to intervene. But she simply raised a hand, signaling them to stay still.
"Do not interfere," she said softly. "Let them fight. Let them reveal their true nature. Let them believe this will prove their gods' power."
And so, the people of the goddess stood in the temple, watching as the self-proclaimed holy men and their followers tumbled over sacred floors, their robes torn, their faces bruised.
It was only when their breaths became ragged, their bodies weakened from the struggle, that the First Star finally stood.
She lifted her hand.
"Silence!"
Her voice was neither angry nor forceful, yet it carried through the temple like the whisper of the wind before a storm.
And at once, the fighting ceased.
The messengers, panting and covered in sweat, turned toward her. Their followers stepped back, eyes lowered, as if suddenly ashamed of their actions.
The First Star looked at each of them in turn—at the arrogant priest of Orthonis, at the battle-hardened warrior of Asgard, and at the composed priestess of Kemet.
Then she spoke.
"You came to my land seeking to spread your faiths. You speak of gods who rule, gods who fight, gods who guide. Yet when tested, what do you do? You act not as disciples of wisdom, but as children who fight over their toys."
A hush fell over the chamber.
She stepped down from her throne, her bare feet touching the cool stone floor as she walked toward them.
"You claim to understand divinity," she continued, "but you know nothing of the world's true beginning."
The messengers glanced at each other, confused.
"The world's true beginning?" the priest of Orthonis asked.
The First Star nodded.
"Before your gods existed, before even the Architect spoke this world into being, there was only the void—the endless abyss, without light, without form. There was no sky, no sea, no land. There was only nothingness."
Her voice carried across the temple, and every person—messenger and follower alike—hung onto her words.
"And then, from the void, came the Architect."
The warrior-priest of Asgard furrowed his brow.
"The Architect? Are you claiming there was one greater than all gods?"
The First Star turned to him, her golden eyes piercing through his doubt.
"The gods you worship are bound by your faith. But the Architect was before faith itself. He shaped the heavens, the earth, and the underworld. He did not demand worship. He did not claim dominion. He simply… created."
She turned to the others.
"The first land was formed, and the First Star—I—was born. Not from faith, nor from worship, but from the Architect's will. The light in the sky was my breath; the warmth of the sun, my embrace. I watched as the first people awoke, and as they walked the land, they created stories, giving names to things unknown. And in time, through their faith, their prayers, and their fears, the gods of the nations were born."
The priestess of Kemet inhaled sharply.
"Then... if what you say is true... does that mean our gods were not the first?"
The First Star nodded.
"Your gods exist because of your people's faith. As long as they believe, the gods shall walk among them. But should the faith of your nations wane, should your people turn away from them, then your gods will fade into nothingness."
The priest of Orthonis clenched his fists.
"Blasphemy!" he spat. "You claim that our mighty gods are not eternal? That they are… fragile?"
"No," the First Star said. "I claim that they are as strong as the hearts that believe in them. And that is why you fight. You do not seek truth—you seek to make your gods greater by stealing the faith of others. You fear the fading of your own gods."
The messengers fell silent.
The followers who had come with them, who had fought in their name, now stood with downcast eyes, realizing the truth in her words.
The First Star looked upon them with neither judgment nor scorn.
"This is why I did not stop you from fighting. You came here to win followers, yet through your actions, you have proven yourselves no different from the kings and conquerors who seek to rule with sword and blood."
She turned and walked back to her throne, her presence radiant and calm.
"Now, return to your nations," she said. "Tell them what you have learned. Whether you choose to embrace the truth or bury it beneath your pride is no concern of mine."
She sat once more, and the temple remained utterly still.
The messengers, humbled, bowed their heads.
And without another word, they turned and left the land of the Mother Goddess.