Two thousand years ago, there was a wandering god whom they called "Winding River." The Nitheans call them "the Water Demon". This god had no gender, no sex; some called them a "he", others an "it", still more a "they". The only word by which he would not be called was "she". It was not as though you could guess their sex by looking, for their beauty was eternal, and their form was fluid, like the rivers they presided over.
Their name has been struck from books at the hands of Nithean men, but we still remember his name: Ro Moon, god of all rivers that bring life. He was an ancient god of Geum. In the days of the Endless War, thousands in this land cried out to Ro Moon for help. The people prayed for the rivers to flood and wash the Nitheans invaders away, for the palace of Jayu to be transported safely on waves of the sea to the heavens. However, Ro Moon was but a deity; though they were powerful, they did not have all the power in the world. So they traveled from Geum to the young kingdom of Jayu to see what suffering was causing their people to cry out with such screams of unholy death.
When Ro Moon arrived, it was horrified. The ground of Jayu had been soaked with Geuman blood until the soil turned red and smooth. Nithean men dragged Geuman women and boys around in chains to serve them whenever they pleased, and the famed Jayu Palace had been torn down, plank, by plank, by plank, until only a smoldering wasteland lay in its place.
Ro Moon was enraged.
He found the stone palace that the Nitheans had begun to construct not far from the ruins of Jayu Palace, and he raised his hands, calling the rivers to flood the land and drown the murderers. But rather than listening to Ro Moon, the rivers ignored them. Ro Moon grew frustrated. They raised their hand again, calling once more. This time, their throat squeezed in on itself, and blood spurted from their lips. Ro Moon fell to the ground, horrified. It had not dawned on them that the murderers had also burned down every temple to the Geuman gods and killed all their most devout believers. The Nitheans believed only in their Pantheon of the Blessed Three, and so they called the Geuman people pagans and razed them into the dirt. Without believers, a god is nothing. Reduced to a pitiful half-mortal state, Ro Moon stumbled through the Nithean camps like a panther, killing as many of the white men as he could. When he was caught and thrown down to the earth by the neck, he dissipated into a mist. It was a shameful thing, but Ro Moon knew he was of no use to anyone dead. Ro Moon returned to Geum to recover godly power from their temples. Soon after came the 400 Year's War, and so they remained in Geum to fight with their people, defending the land against the gods of Gongkua.
It was 600 years ago that Ro Moon returned to Jayu (which they now call Vallness), upon the ending of the 400 Year's War. By this time, temples had once again been built in secret to his name. The Nitheans were no longer so adamant about the destruction of the Geuman gods; they had ruled the land for four centuries. A few pagan temples would not destroy their rule–though they kept a sharp eye on all Geuman religion, for they were paranoid. And so Ro Moon remained a deity in the land of Jayu, albeit a weakened one. They helped their people quietly for 100 years: sinking Vallnean ships, ending rural droughts, freeing enslaved Geumans. They brought water to the thirsty and mercy to those slave-driven by the Nitheans. Though they always wore a mortal disguise while they carried out their deeds, their following still began to grow. Geumans in Jayu spoke of a young figure who appeared in the darkest of times to bring the freeing mercy of the river with them. Their god had descended among them–Ro Moon had returned. This gave them hope. More temples were constructed, and more worshippers flocked to Ro Moon's temples, praying for a revolution
Ro Moon's power slowly rose. He began to destroy large Nithean merchant ships; to drain palace storages of water and leave Nithean nobility to die of drought; to divert rivers from Nithean cities to Geuman settlements, bringing what the Nitheans call the First Great Drought of Vallness. The Geuman people rejoiced; at last, after centuries, a god had come to save them. But they would not live in relief for long.
Seeing the destruction and the widespread worship of what they believed to be a water witch, the Nithean royalty called on their Witch Hunters to stop the Geuman witch. The Witch Hunters returned from research to inform their masters that the being that was wreaking such havoc was not a witch, but a god–a strange pagan deity of Geuman descent. The Hunters suggested the destruction of said god's temples, as it was known that the gods of Gongkua and Geum grew weaker without temples and offerings. The royalty of Nith approved, and the Witch Hunters set out on a rampage.
From the start of their mission to its end only a few weeks later, nearly every temple to Ro Moon in the land of Jayu had been burned to the ground. Ro Moon's temples were often built of limestone and cherry wood. The cherry wood was burnt to ash, and the limestone was cut through with picks until each temple was left a dry, burnt pile of stained rubble. Each statue they found, they beheaded–for now that this god had offended Nithean royalty, his life was an offense to not just their Pantheon, but to the crown.
It just so happened that the Burning of the Temples fell in time with the Second Great Fire of Geum, in which many temples of the various gods in the Geuman homeland were burnt to the ground tragically. So it happened that soon enough, Ro Moon awoke to find that his lips were covered in blood, his limbs were too weak to lift, and his heart was as faint as a mouse's. Ro Moon had slept in a forest that night. They crawled towards the light at the forest's edge, but quickly they grew too exhausted to move. Darkness overtook them. They wondered what it might feel like to die as a god.
Not long after, a halmoni found him. She had gone to the forest's edge to pick pears from her pear tree. She put Ro Moon's body in her cart with effort and wheeled it back to her cottage with much sweat and strain. At her house, she laid the youth on her cot and took to brewing a healing tea. When Ro Moon woke up a few hours later, they were puzzled to find themselves in an unfamiliar cottage. But they were not afraid; they did not feel unsafe. When the old woman returned, she was overjoyed to see that he had awoken, and took to giving him food and tea and checking his health.
In any other circumstance, Ro Moon would be too ashamed to accept such hospitality, feeling like a leech on an old woman's time and home. But they could barely stand without growing sick. And so, Ro Moon stayed with the old woman for some time. Her name was Haerin. Some weeks passed, and Haerin and Ro Moon grew closer. Haerin had lost her son before his time, Ro Moon learned. She told Ro Moon that since she could no longer make her son feel loved, she found joy in making other young folk feel loved instead. Ro Moon was conflicted. He had never experienced such genuine care before. To make up for taking up her time and effort, he began to perform menial tasks as he healed–collecting wood, hunting, tending the gardens. Ro Moon listened to Haerin's stories, and shared some of their own, careful not to tell her that they were not mortal, but a god.
One day, Ro Moon went outside to find a small stone shrine. The old woman was fumbling with incense.
"What are you doing, halmoni?" they asked.
"Oh–" Haerin was surprised. She smiled at him with crows feet in her eyes. "I am building you a shrine."
Ro Moon was shocked.The shrine even had a poor painting of his face on it, and small sacrifices of fish and cattails.
"Don't worry," said Haerin, her voice wwarm. "I don't expect anything from you. I could tell you were of heaven when I found you in the forest. God or not, I still wish to help. Perhaps this shrine will make you feel better."
Ro Moon was speechless. Soon after, the old woman lit some peach incense, and Ro Moon's divine spirit strengthened immediately. The illness left his body, and his skin grew rosy with life. Ro Moon fell to their knees and bowed to Haerin.
"Thank you. I am indebted to you ten thousand times over for all you have given me."
"Oh! Oh, don't bow!" Haerin cried until Ro Moon stood. "My child, you have already given me so much–someone to love like a child of my own."
Ro Moon decided to express his gratitude by staying with the woman for some time longer. They directed the nearby rivers to water her garden with their returned power, and called on the rain to grow her pear tree. They continued to cut wood for her as their strength returned. Each day, they grew stronger. Eventually, they began to leave during the night to tend to their people once more. They returned to their previous activities, though with more stealth now–drawing out droughts in areas of Nithean wealth, calling water and flora to lands where Geuman people had been abandoned to fend for themselves. The days went on like this. Haerin grew older, and Ro Moon stayed the same.
One day, Ro Moon returned to the cottage after a three day's trip to find a strange atmosphere. The lanterns had been broken; smoke rose from them in the night. Inside, the table was turned over, and Haerin's tea set was shattered across the floor. Ro Moon's heart stopped. They had a terrible feeling.
When they ran to ask the people of the nearby village if they had heard anything, they told Ro Moon that slavers had come through the village and forest, stealing away the elderly to be sold as sea dragon bait on the Isles of Nith. Many wailed in the village, but Ro Moon did not hear them. He flew then to the Isles of Nith right away, only to find that the conditions on the slaving-ship had been bad enough that not a single person had survived. He looked for Haerin's body, but she had been thrown into the sea three days ago. Ro Moon's blood roared. His face was pale. He became like a vengeful ghost.
No longer did Ro Moon care to be cautious with their actions so as to not alert Nithean royalty. First, he found the slavers and drowned them one by one as they pleaded for mercy. Then, he called down raging typhoons on the capitals of Vallness, wiping out entire markets and districts with a wave of his hand. Rage had brought him great and terrible power. Ro Moon flew to the royal capital and called all the surrounding great rivers to converge on the palace until the palace overflowed with water, and streams rushed from its windows. Many screamed and wailed, drowning and wasting away in Ro Moon's prison of water, but he did not stop. The Royal Witch Hunters scrambled to stop him, but no drugs, no weapons, no words could bring Ro Moon down from their endless rage. Even the king was caught in the flood, and was drowned to death, his body floating like a commoner's. The royal crown dropped out of a palace window, and Ro Moon crushed it beneath his foot.
Some say the Drowning went on for years. It was not until the Witch Hunters at last hunted down the small shrine in the woods by Haerin's house and tore it to pieces that Ro Moon finally fell at the feet of the Nithean castle. Blood spurted from his lips, and he was struck with an illness even greater than that which he had carried when Haerin found him. He was captured quickly and stowed away.
A new cell was built in Avinkalld for Ro Moon alone. It was dug deep underground, after the groundwater had been drained. Rain does not reach that place. The air is dry as paper. It is said that all who walk into Ro Moon's cell, the First Holding Cell of Avinkalld, will wither away into a corpse in a moment. For four hundred years, Ro Moon has been held, sedated again and again for study and to quell the destructive rage that has not cooled after half an age. Some say that he weeps at night, but they are wrong–if only he could. His eyes are always covered with a cotton cloth, so that he cannot use even his tears to fight. Of all the Geuman gods, he is the most tragic. But Ro Moon is a god, after all; one day, they will be free once more whether it be the hands of their people or the crumbling of time that frees them. Who knows what they will do then? Perhaps they will return to rain mercy on the Geuman people…or perhaps they will return to rage, destroying all in their path.