Short Little Stories

From out of nothing, the World was made. So went the myths and lore of the people of the plains and rolling fields, of the dwellers of the hidden forest kingdoms, of the fishers by the sea, and of all the races of the world… save one.

The Children of the Mountain knew otherwise. The lowland folk spoke of the creation of the world and all its creatures… but the Children knew that in the beginning, there was only cold hard stone. Endless rock and stone was everything and all. A granite tomb for a world unborn, solid and unyielding and eternal – until the Breaker came.

In one moment, the Breaker came to be, and shattered the stone – freeing the sky to expand into its proper place. And from the rocky earth that remained, the Breaker began to shape the land – carving away the excess, and leaving mountains and valleys in its place, finally giving the World the shape it knows to this day. Some of the stone he reached out and crushed within one hand – and then poured it forth as water, to fill the rivers and oceans and seas.

With a more careful touch, he tore individual pieces from the ground, and pared them away until their true forms were all that remained – and set them down as animals, and trees, and all the many people of the World. And so life was born, and all was good.

The lowland folk chuckle at the myths of the mountainfolk, if they even know of them at all. But the Children of the Mountain ignore such laughter, for three things, they know to be true.

They know that the World was not born from an act of creation, but one of destruction. 

They know that Life came forth from the hand of the Breaker.

And they know that his work is not yet done.