Prihleudhōs (PREE-hleh-uh-thōs)

Before the breath of gods shaped law or the echo of prayer filled The Void, there was only Becoming. Not the chaos of raw potential, nor the order of divine will—but something older still: the First Motion. It did not spiral into cosmos nor shatter into war—it whispered freedom into the silence, and from that whisper, nine emerged.   They were not born of worship, nor summoned by fear. They were not sentinels of fate, nor keepers of dominion. They were the Prihleudhōs: beings who carried no banner but their own, who moved not through mandate but through choice. They came not to rule, but to unbind—doors, minds, destinies, and truths. Some would call them gods. Some, spirits. Some, rebels. But all would remember them.  

Origins: Walkers Between Realms

The Prihleudhōs are said to have emerged from the The Well of Being—not born but awakened. They are Primordial entities, meaning they formed at the point where Primordial Forces began to echo into identity. Each embodies a domain of transformation: the forge, the sea, the forest, the deep earth, the threshold, the veil between life and death. Unlike the Proto-Forces, they are not concepts made flesh, but conscious agents of change—the very first to wield freedom not as a gift, but as a calling.   They did not descend from gods, nor were they fashioned by design. Instead, they stepped forth fully aware, carrying fragments of many realms within them. This allowed them to walk between cultures and worlds, adopting names, faces, and teachings as needed. Never bound by a single form, they reflect the peoples who call upon them—but are owned by none.  

Purpose: To Awaken, Not Rule

Where the Shaqarim embody cosmic principles—order and free will, harmony and rebellion—the Prihleudhōs are neither architects nor adversaries. They are waymakers, reminding all that divinity is not a crown but a spark within. They do not seek altars or temples, but encounters: the moment when a being realizes it may shape its own truth.   Their purpose is not to impose structure, but to reveal choice. They are teachers, companions, disruptors, and catalysts. To follow them is not to serve, but to remember. They whisper to the imprisoned soul, the silenced mind, the bound heart. Their gifts are not safety, but clarity.   Their creed, spoken in silence and song alike: "Forge. Flow. Grow. Remember. Speak. Release."  

The Nine: Faces of the Prihleudhōs

Wayland (Air/Fire) – The Sky-Smith. Patron of artisans, inventors, and the soul’s renewal through craft. Teaches mastery through creation.

Egil (Nature) – The Wandering Seed. Patron of wild beings, forests, and rhythm. Teaches growth through cycles and balance.

Hermes (Liminal) – The Crossroads. Patron of messengers, merchants, tricksters, and travelers. Teaches freedom through knowing boundaries—and how to cross them.

Slagfior (Earth) – The Deep Mason. Patron of dwarves and makers of endurance. Teaches patience and transformation through pressure.

Tuiren (Water) – The Driftguide. Patron of sea-folk, dancers, and seekers. Teaches power through surrender and grace in motion.

Azrael Vale (Death/Transitions) – The Veiled One. Patron of endings, transitions, and peace. Teaches that death is not bondage, but passage, and that grief can also set us free.

The Fates

Among them walk the weavers of fate — not to bind, but to reveal the shape of what is chosen.

Laima (Fate's Thread Begun) – The Spinner - Patron of beginnings, potential, and the first breath. Weaves the thread of each life with care, whispering possibility into the world. Teaches that fate starts not with answers, but with hope.

Dēkla (Fate's Thread measured) – The Measurer - Guardian of growth, learning, and choice. Measures the path between first breath and last, walking beside us as we change. Teaches that every decision is a thread in the greater weave.

Kārta (Fate's Thread Cut) – The Binder - Keeper of endings, legacy, and the final knot. Ties the last thread with grace, neither cruel nor kind, only true. Teaches that completion is sacred, and all things find rest in time.

 

Fluid Across Cultures

Because they predate language and cultural pantheons, each of the Prihleudhōs appears in multiple forms across history. Wayland is the Norse Völundr, the Elven Air-Wright, and the celestial Smith of Stars. Tuiren was once the Irish sea-maiden, the daughter of storm, the soft-handed wave in Sumerian dreams. Hermes walks in sandals across Olympus, but also drapes himself in silks in Phoenician courts and Incan temples. Azrael Vale is the Angel of Death, the Silent Gatekeeper, the Whisper in the Dust.   But none are what they are called. Each is a mirror—what you name, they become, but always with a quiet smile that says: "I was here long before you gave me shape."  

The Doctrine of the Unbound

The Prihleudhōs reject hierarchy and allegiance. While they may walk beside mortals or celestials, they bind themselves to no realm, no pantheon, no divine mission. Their unity is not forged in blood or allegiance, but in philosophy:  

Freedom is sacred, but not safe.

Creation is divine, even when imperfect.

To destroy bondage is holy.

To speak truth is a form of forging.

To die free is better than to live chained.

Each of the Prihleudhōs acts alone, yet their stories intertwine—rare gatherings at the edges of forgotten realms, where they share ideas and tales like sparks shared between blades. Mortals who encounter more than one often mistake them for old friends, lovers, or rival gods. They are all, and they are none.  

The Founders of Tír na nÓg

In the earliest time, when even the gods feared the Reset—those great cycles where universes dissolve and remake themselves—the Prihleudhōs did something unprecedented: they forged a realm that could survive it.   Not by dominion, not by locking it outside time, but by anchoring it in will and freedom.   Tír na nÓg was their gift to all sentient life—a realm outside fate, where memory, thought, and desire give rise to form. It was never meant to be ruled, only shaped by those within. Every tree, stone, and breeze in Tír na nÓg remembers its makers. It is the Prihleudhōs’s great work, not because it is perfect, but because it endures.