Aetherwylle, Purest Creation
A time long lost, before the Void, before the fall, before the Tanes, Mother Creation's children, failed her and their siblings, there was harmony. Their was magick beyond comprehension. There was infinity. For the world we know was shrouded in the loving embrace of Mother Creation and Father Destiny's loving embrace. Everything lived and died and live again but different in great harmony. The manna was clean, the Aether, the weave of dreams pure and infinite. The Faei and the Tanes ruled and created the world and the progenitors of all things upon it now. They did this, in part through the purity of that weave, by drinking deep of creation's purity itself. However long before the fall, long before the Sundering, the influence of the Void reached both for their dreams slowly drifted. As Mother Creation and Father Destiny moved on to weave the stars, the multiverse beyond, as they must do and always do continually, the children they entrusted would begin to not heed the lessons of their parents. They would peer into the darkness of the Void that Mother and Father were trying to combat, the places beyond the veil, beyond starlight, beyond the realms and Aetherweave. Into the darkness and hungering eternity of despair and emptiness. Into the Void, a place of the deepest fears and nightmares.
However when they looked into that empty....something looked back. Something reached out to communicate. In that moment the end was assured. Every moment since it was more and more difficult to draw upon the Aether safely or in its purity, and eventually, the creeping corrupting whispers of those things beyond light, the things in the inky blackness beyond hope and dreams, wore down even the might of the Tanes and Faei. And the world shattered and was Sundered. For untold millenia what we would come to know as Valerick became the darkest most shadowed kind of hell, it is in fact where we draw our imaginings of things like hells, or other such concepts. Until the Ascended.
But these stories you know well. However what you may not know is where the power of the Ascended truly, truly came from. A last gasp, though perhaps not the last gasp, of the purity Mother and Father gave our home upon its conception. To ascend to godhood, to become something this plane, this realm had no real reference for, to alter reality itself that way requires the very essence of creation. This, beyond all else is the power of Aetherwylle. It is purity of form, the rawest essence and power of creation but in a form consumable, supposedly, by a mortal. To hear some versions of the stories, some of the Faei, the last of their kind perhaps, gifted those whom would become the Ascended this powerful gift. Other versions however tell us a far harsher truth. They gifted double or triple, so eighteen or even twenty-seven mortals thusly. Because they knew our minds, souls and bodies were not formed to hold such purity of energy. That we might just come apart to our base elements unable to contain the power being offered.
Regardless which version you believe, ever since there has been the question, the mythos, perhaps even some sort of strange hope.....was that truly all of it. Was that the last gasp of the creators, the last of their children the Faei, attempting to mitigate or undo some of the damage they caused? Or could there perhaps be places, pockets, sanctuaries on Valerick or in the Aether, in the land of dreams itself, protected and shrouded where one might find this legendary substance?
The introduction used by High Lector Raphael, Doctorate in history and mythology studies. Used yearly as an introduction for his Mythology of the Ancients class.
Summary
The Gift of Ascendence is the legend referenced by the High Lector above and discusses how beings from the realm of dreams, or perhaps beyond as some others suggest, that we call the Faei, came forth and gifted those whom would become the Ascended a great gift. Something merely called Aetherwylle.
Aetherwylle is a word known from the studies of both ancient Faei relics and Tane relics. It means Purity of Creation, or 'Creation's Purity' when referred to as an object. A potion or elixir to be precise.
The myths vary and the legends are obscure and guesswork from translations of records from long dead languages. However the stories of the Ascended make an interesting note;
Thus Aetherwylle might be an allegory. Perhaps it is something percieved to be impossible, pure, untainted Aether, dreamweave as if from the time before the Void, from the times of creation, as if from Mother Creation and Father Destiny themselves.
However regardless of what it was or is or could be, if it still exists or not, or if it ever existed, the power of creation is in fact what was being offered in these stories. The spark of divinity. The ability to change reality, alter fate, influence the flow of time, lives and events with a directed hand. To pick up a quill and ink and write the story of the realm itself, and even beyond. The myth speaks of the great gift that is Aetherwylle and if it did ever exist or does exist, it certainly could be. However just as important was the gift of hope, and the givers not demanding anything in return. Not even for the mortal lives and peoples to know or remember their names....
Aetherwylle is a word known from the studies of both ancient Faei relics and Tane relics. It means Purity of Creation, or 'Creation's Purity' when referred to as an object. A potion or elixir to be precise.
What is Aetherwylle?
The myths vary and the legends are obscure and guesswork from translations of records from long dead languages. However the stories of the Ascended make an interesting note;
The liquids all shone with vibrance beyond description, and colors beyond name. They smelled of divinity, yet excitement, and hope, and power, yet of trust and kindness. For each of them it was different, this liquid being gifted to them in chalices seemingly woven of golden light and silver kindness by beings whom could only be described by names and titles, for each set of eyes saw them differently, saw them as they needed to see them to feel hope and empowerment.
Thus Aetherwylle might be an allegory. Perhaps it is something percieved to be impossible, pure, untainted Aether, dreamweave as if from the time before the Void, from the times of creation, as if from Mother Creation and Father Destiny themselves.
However regardless of what it was or is or could be, if it still exists or not, or if it ever existed, the power of creation is in fact what was being offered in these stories. The spark of divinity. The ability to change reality, alter fate, influence the flow of time, lives and events with a directed hand. To pick up a quill and ink and write the story of the realm itself, and even beyond. The myth speaks of the great gift that is Aetherwylle and if it did ever exist or does exist, it certainly could be. However just as important was the gift of hope, and the givers not demanding anything in return. Not even for the mortal lives and peoples to know or remember their names....
In Literature
However some few, even after all this time, remember their names. They were kept, hidden in the faiths they birthed, and now in the minds and lectures of only the most advanced mythology courses taught to a select few pupils. Those whom take the deepest of interests in the ancient past, the past beyond most any methods of study beyond spirits, legends, and the scars of magick and bits of ruins left behind.
This piece took some weird ass turns as I was writing it due to personal reasons and feelings and so it feels like I should make clear like....I hope you all are okay with how I spun this, what I wrote, the kinda conceptualization of what narratively is happening/what it represents etc. If not, just comment or DM me and of course and I will adjust/remove/or otherwise as is acceptable. Just one of those it just came together and came out of the mindspace moments.
This next part....well once I realized what this substance was, I just had to put it in. If you aren't here, please understand there are so many of you, however I had to pick nine and well...I had to match some vibes with the vibes of my nine Ascended as best I could. Some may be referenced by name or world whatever sounded better in the wordplay.
Each of the Ascended, and their faiths never forgot. They simply choose not to speak of. However those of us whom have studied mythology long enough and deep enough learn them and now I pass the sacred trust of that knowing unto you all. So listen well;
"Sir Kartheart took heart at the lightning and frigid fury in his chalice, as the voice of this entity, Fang of the River, spoke to him a promise. 'Drink deep the Aetherwylle and you will find the power to tame storms and will the tundra to your people's whims. You have the courage of warrior and the heart of a general. Let us dream of that being on equal playing field to the Nightmares of a world.'
Talia of the Leaves looked up at the flickering dancing light of reds and oranges, purples and greens. The chalice smelled of energy. The crackling flame, the misty dew, whiffs of pine and cedar and the freshly tilled soil of a garden. One after the other, scents of promise. Daeni of Colors spoke softly, promise and a hope. 'Drink deep and find that what you feel, what you are does not have to be a curse. Within the Aetherwylle, there is hope, and with it you can find the answers you know exist. You have the will, now let us give you the energy and power to shape dreams, and the ability to find the path of knowledge to filter out the Nightmares.'
Cormaq sat starting down at the Chalice, and as the arm, this wonder of magick, and steam and metal that he could not comprehend which this entity had given him to replace his nightmarishly cursed and dead blight limb. He smelled the chalice, and as he did, he could hear the whirring of gears, the sound of forges roaring to life, he could see wisps of the things that could be created, invented from the minds of his fellow people of this world, if only they had faith in themselves, and perhaps faith in the guidance of someone to encourage experimentation. The strange being, Dimitris of the Forge, seemed of equal parts metal and crackling thunder, spoke kindly but with clear and pointed directness. "Drink up Cormaq, for you have much work to do. The Aetherwylle is but a tool, and a strong one." The other beside it spoke, Janet, a being of dancing stars and wilderness made manifest. "Yes and after you drink it, you will also have many tools to find, create and discover!"
The cheerful entity, seeming made of light and shadow, flickered between forms both of animals and beasts that Boran knew and many other shapes he could not fathom as it playfully spun and caught the chalice, presenting it to him steaming, smelling of the finest stew and broth he could imagine. Was it lamb? No beef? He could not tell for the profile of the smell, though mouthwatering, kept changing and changing. The creature, this Mochimanobon, spoke swift and with excitement. "Drink up drink up. You have the instincts, but now you need to unlock them. The Aetherwylle will help you see and understand. For life has no meaning without cycle, and nature has no purpose without the web of life. The Nightmares cannot learn this without being taught. Teach them. Become the predator you are capable of being, and embrace the pack leader within your heart."
Vosana rose to from her seat, taking the offered chalice from the...talon? wing? of this owl like creature that shone with the radiance of the sun and had flaming feathers of a phoenix, as the voice of this creature, this Strixx, spoke. Kind, compassionate, but with a strength and fire crackling within it that would make anyone pay attention, and grant respect. "Drink of the sun's radiance, child, and bring the enlightenment of the Aetherwylle into you. So you can bring your own enlightenment to manifest for those whom follow you. Become the beacon you know you can be, and bring your people out of the darkness, out from under their Nightmares."
Feyheart sat back, having enjoyed playing his pan pipes with this interesting creature seeming made of dewdrops and twinkling stars dancing in the moonlight, this being that had called itself simply 'Rin'. He stared at the chalice they offered, seeming made of silver and filled with naught but moonbeams. "You are a finder of stories and routes, a bringer of paths. Think of the Aetherwylle as nothing more than a fancy compass, combined with maps. For we are kindred spirits and I understand part of what you are needs to explore, to venture into unknowns, and we will not take that away. Drink deep and find a potential to not just find, but alter and create paths for the good of your people to aid in those explorations."
Jeremiah leaned back, enjoying the scent from the chalice, the rum, the seaspray, in his pitch black cell. The being of beside him seemed a visage of flickering sand and seawater, form shifting, dancing, yet ever present. The chalice but a simple timber thing, held water tight with ship pitch of all things. The fluid inside seemed more viscous than rum, yet somehow equally as free flowing as the mighty ocean herself. The voice of this creature spoke to him again, this being calling itself Hannelore. "Drink, captain of captains. You know you could escape but believe you could not do so to make a difference. That is only because you cannot see as a builder can see. Let the Aetherwylle show you. As a weaver of reality, as someone who can change the paths of those around them. Drink deep, for your crew, your peoples, your fellows of the sea, they need you. Do not give in to despair, instead become what you are capable of being."
Varis watched this odd fox like entity curiously in the shackles upon the altar, waiting for the sacrificial knife from the damned cultists to just get on with it. He assumed he'd been drugged. Yet this entity, Haly it had said its name was when it first appeared, was suddenly beside him, a chalice of gold and a liquid that sparkled with the glint of coin and gemstones of all kinds. "Luck has always been your ally, mayhaps me, you and the this bit of Aetherwylle should make that a permanent fixture?" it asked, a smirk on its face.
Deat-Kra shook his head, trying to loosen the cobwebs from his meditations as he stared at this image before him, this being made of seemingly amorpheus chaos, yet given structure within the dancing of planets and star systems, a nonsensical visual yet it filled his eyes. Its name came to him as a thought given voice. Ademal, even as it held out a chalice of chain, steel and blackened iron. "You have defined what is Just and Right, and people have listened. Do you have the strength of being to try and guide the world itself, to use that talent to be tough but fair to try and save your world? Drink deep of Aetherwylle and the responsibility of an arbiter and leader then, for it is time."
These were all translated, perhaps not perfectly, perhaps even with grave mistakes, from the most ancient text we had ever found of the Ascended, claiming to have been written in their time, the combined work of three supposed scribes and trusted confidantes of the Ascended when they were alive, three beings that supposedly by their own claims in their names and titles, were Faei. Amelie of the Mysteries, Annie of the Stars and Thei'he'ket the Everwoven. However the original document unfortunately did not survive the strains of time long after its excavation so though excerpts such as this were translated, the whole story, which was likely some three volumes each easily four hundred pages, even the magicks likely woven to perserve them could not save them over this length of time. So alas, we have no other knowledge of whom these scribes, or these other entities were, or what they truly were. Nor do we know much else of what Aetherwylle truly is. And with that, returning to our first lessons so long ago, as I promised we would, to return to the myth I first asked you all about four months ago, I leave you to consider what you think it actually is or represents. If its history, spirituality, allegory or otherwise. We've studied many simpler myths and legends and come to understand well the lineage and various threads that connect the cultures and histories, through mythology, of our home and our peoples. Suranthi to Susmian, Wastonian to Depen, there are stories and roots within many of those tales that we share. Well this is the biggest. The progenitor. The end and the beginning. So as you advance in your studies and consider philosophy, spirituality, history, archaelogy or other disciplines, I would bid you to remember one lesson I like to take from this tale.
We live in a world of darkness, but also light. The Void is real, and Nightmares can become reality. However by its nature, this means so to can dreams. Magick exists and dreams can manifest, that means we all can do a little bit of magick. If we are willing to put faith in ourselves and put in the effort, work and will to manifest upon reality, we can. We are capable therefore we can. Belief is a powerful thing. Perhaps the message is just that sometimes, we need someone else to remind us, and believe in us too. You all have my belief, for you have shown great potential and intelligence and a hunger to learn and understand and investigate all semester. So know that I believe in you, and take that advice for what it is worth. Believe in yourselves, and come what may, you will be alright, and you will find your way, always. Thank you."
The end of the last lecture of the year that High Lector Raphael gives to his students each semester. Something they always remember and always sticks with them.
Disclaimer
This piece took some weird ass turns as I was writing it due to personal reasons and feelings and so it feels like I should make clear like....I hope you all are okay with how I spun this, what I wrote, the kinda conceptualization of what narratively is happening/what it represents etc. If not, just comment or DM me and of course and I will adjust/remove/or otherwise as is acceptable. Just one of those it just came together and came out of the mindspace moments.
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