In the deep, primordial past, long before the rise of human civilizations and the etching of their names into history, the cosmic tapestry of existence was woven by the Sumerian pantheon. At its heart stood Nanna (Sin), the celebrated Moon God, whose familiar light guided the night. From his radiant union sprang beloved deities like Inanna, the vibrant goddess of love and war, and Utu, the blazing Sun God. Yet, Nanna was not alone in his lunar dominion. He had a twin sister, the Black Moon, known as Gig-iti.
Gig-iti was the mistress of the unseen currents, not of reflected light, but of profound absorption and the silent genesis of life. She was the goddess of raw fertility, of potential unawakened, and of the fundamental forces that operate subtly in the hidden depths of the subconscious mind. She governed the "Dark Moon," the veiled phases, prophecy whispered in enigmatic dreams, and the profound intuition that resides beyond immediate perception. She was the guardian of darkness and thresholds, a subtle weaver of fate.
As mortal prayers swelled towards the visible and comforting light of Nanna and his luminous lineage, a discord began to fester. A rivalry, born of differing natures and the shifting tides of mortal devotion, culminated in a devastating celestial conflict between the celebrated Nanna and the profound, enigmatic Gig-iti. Their battle was a cosmic war of shadow against luminescence, shaking the very ether. In the end, the pervasive light triumphed. Gig-iti, though not destroyed, was utterly defeated. Her punishment was a fate worse than oblivion: to forget herself. Nanna's brilliance did not merely banish her, but meticulously erased her own memory of her divinity, severing her conscious connection to her divine family, her true purpose, and her vast powers. She became a powerful essence without self-awareness, a goddess lost even to herself, condemned to be forgotten by all, including her own being.
Unbeknownst to Nanna, or perhaps acting on a deep, desperate intuition from Gig-iti before her complete memory erasure, the god Enki, master of water, wisdom, magic, and creation, intervened. Out of compassion for Gig-iti, or perhaps to subtly defy the absolute dominance of Nanna, Enki performed a profound act of divine magic. He did not biologically procreate, but crafted and manifested a son for Gig-iti. This being, named Gish-Zi (meaning "Tree of Life" or "Wood of Life"), was a unique blend of Gig-iti's hidden essence and Enki's creative power, representing a deep, life-giving potential.
However, the existence of Gish-Zi was soon discovered by the other gods, led by Nanna. Seeing the boy as a continuation of Gig-iti's power and a potential future threat to their established order, they sought to destroy him. A desperate struggle ensued. To save Gish-Zi from the wrath of the pantheon, Enki made a heartbreaking decision. He could not keep the boy in the divine realms. Instead, he acted as a desperate guardian, performing a powerful act of preservation: he placed the infant Gish-Zi into a deep, magical hibernation, hiding him away from divine detection.
For approximately 4700 years, Gish-Zi lay dormant, concealed by Enki's magic, waiting for a time when cosmic conditions, perhaps tied to Gig-iti's own subtle, subconscious re-awakening, would allow him to emerge.
That time arrived in the modern world. Gish-Zi's long slumber ended, and he awakened as a baby. He was found abandoned in a desolate area next to a farm in the countryside by Lena, a homeless woman who worked tirelessly in the fields by day. Lena, despite her own struggles, possessed a profound compassion. She took the crying infant in, caring for him as her own, and gave him the simple, earthy name Finn.
Thus, Finn, the ancient, divinely created Gish-Zi, began his life in the modern world, unknowingly carrying the vast legacy of forgotten gods, cosmic conflict, and profound power, all hidden beneath the humble exterior of a street-smart, hopeful boy.