Yes, yes this is largely influenced by Norse Mythology. No, no this is not Norse Mythology. It really is not. It’s only based on Norse Mythology. It’s only based on Norse Mythology in the same way The Bifrost Incident or Marvel is based on Norse Mythology. In other words, it’s a complete bastardization.
It’s kind of just a religion I created myself. Kind of. I had some help. This is based just as much on fanfictions of Norse Mythology as it is on Norse Mythology. Some things I straight up pulled out of my heart.
This is not an accurate representation at all of Heathen religions and should not be taken as such. This is not meant to be a depiction of Heathen and Norse-Pagan based religions any more than Supernatural is meant to be a depiction of Christianity.
Norse Paganism and Heathenry are good and valid belief systems and you should do actual research (not this fictionalized story) before judging them. No disrespect to Heathens and Norse Pagans, they’re often great people and their religion is beautiful. If you want to learn about their religions, or about Norse Mythology itself, please do real actual research. This story does not even come close to counting as real actual research.
I have numerous fanfiction authors to thank for many of the stories in this book. I can’t keep track of all the fanfic authors I have to thank for providing me stories but thank you to them all nonetheless.
There was a void in the space of the existence. And on one side of the void, there was a great, bright heat. Like the summer sun. On the other side of the void was a great, cold darkness. Like a winter night. The bright heat and the cold darkness reached out. And in the middle, they crashed against each other. They swirled and mingled.
But it wasn’t truly bright heat. And it wasn’t truly dark darkness. They did not truly have light or darkness or heat or cold in the way that we experience those forces. These two opposite forces in actuality were both love. They were love in its different facets and aspects.
And there in the middle of the void, where they met, they formed a being full of life and love and perfection. This being was Puri, the Great God, the greatest god that there was. Puri had all the genders that exist, all together at once. Puri was also love. Love given a mind and a heart. And with Their mind and heart They loved all Their children. For Puri was the Parent of all Their children.
Nature was part of Puri. The mountains and valleys. The rivers and streams. The oceans and deserts. The forests and fields. The plains and hills. The tropics and tundras. The caves and cliff-sides. It was all part of Puri. It was all alive with the spark of life. It was all alive with the spark of love. And it was all Puri.
From the waters that came forth from Puri there came the first people. These were the Yemars. The Yemars were a wild people. They were closely connected to the rivers and the rain and the clouds and the sky. They were closely connected to the earth and the rocks and the woods and the grasses and the leaves. They were closely connected to the ice and the snow and the heat and the fire. They were one with nature. And they lived amongst nature. Free. Wild.
Each Yemar had a different aspect of nature that they came to embody, that came to define them. Some Yemars were one with different animals. Some were one with different elements. Some were one with different geographic features. Some were one with different seasons. Some were one with different plants. And so on. There was also a specific subset of Yemars called the Tzimars. They were divided into two groups. The Tzimars of light and the Tzimars of darkness, both being equal and balancing the Yemarian society.
The world was run by love. There was no greed. No lust for power. No apathy. No exploitation. No hurt. And nobody took anything more than they absolutely needed. Everyone shared everything. Everyone respected their Parent, Puri. Everyone was different, and everyone was the same, and everyone was one.
Everyone was a part of nature, a part of love, and a part of Puri.
But such peace was not meant to last.
Through the fields and forests of Puri roamed a great yak. A yak that held great meaning and great power within herself. A yak that would bring the terrible future of all beings. Her name meant fate. Her name meant world-destroyer. The Yak too was a child of Puri. And the yak was not a bad being herself. But she gave birth to all kinds of beings. Some of these beings were good beings that got adopted by the Yemars. But three of these beings would go on to change the world. Change it for the worse.
Karkion was the first of a new type of being. This type of being was not one with nature. This type of being was called an Uzra. There were three Uzras at first. Karkion, and his two brothers Hali and Moni.
They rose from their slumber and looked around at the world that Puri was. And they had deep hatred in their hearts for it. And they had deep greed in their hearts as well. They vowed to kill the Great God so that they could take over Their lands and Their children.
And so Karkion forged for himself a great long sword made of seething hatred and unending, hardened greed. With this sword he plunged down into the very heart of Puri. And from Their heart came a great flow of blood. The blood bled out over all the lands and because Puri was bleeding all the Yemars died.
But there were a tiny few Yemars that survived. They were able to hold onto branches and trees that were afloat in the bleeding. They were able to pull each other out of the tides and help each other hold on until the end of the flood.
After the flood there were only a few Yemars left. And they were mourning. They were mourning their families and friends and community who had died. They were mourning the people they had lost. They were the only survivors left after a great and horrific absolute devastation.
The Yemars vowed to rebuild. They vowed that their people would survive until the day that they could finally thrive. They vowed to be good ancestors to the many descendants who would come after them.
And they were mourning Puri.
Because Puri was now dead. Nature was now dead. But still, some parts of nature survived. Puri survived. Puri was dead but They also survived. They could still continue guiding the people.
The three brothers took the dead body of Puri, who was also still alive, and they shaped the dead flesh into what they wanted it to be. They made the world what they wanted it to be. They made a dead world in which they could live and build their empires.
They also conquered the remaining Yemars. They trod the Yemars down under their boots, and made them subjugated and servile to the Uzras. Because of them, the Yemars were fettered. They had to face great grief and much death. They had to serve the Uzras.
The Uzras built for themselves Uzra men and Uzra women. This was to be the new race that would dominate. Karkion married a wise and strong Uzra lady named Geyna. And together they had many children.
But Geyna was not the only woman Karkion bedded. He routinely went out to the Yemarian women and made them lay with him. And with these women he had many Uzra sons. One day he was with a Yemarian woman named Olaia. And with her he had a daughter.
But this is a story for another time.
Karkion and his brothers built a large path that could take the Uzras wherever they needed to be. On this path they enchanted a great many magics that prevented Yemars from using it. They entrusted Ryan to guard this path and to look over all the world and see everything that was in it. So he did and he reported all the truths to the king of the Uzras. And he told them the truths they wanted to hear. He did not tell them the truths that they didn’t.
What he didn’t know though was that the Yemars had a way of slipping under his omnipresent gaze. They could do things he could not see.
One day a Yemarian woman named Gylla was brought in chains to the palace of the Uzras. She had been defiant against them and had resisted them. And therefore the Uzras were set to destroy her.
They pinned her down to a post in the centre of the palace. And they set her rough worn dress on fire. Her dress burned and her hair burned and her flesh burned. But her body was not consumed. She burned and she burned but she just stood there. Tall. Unwavering. Alive. Smiling through immense pain. Laughing through her screams.
Eventually this fire died out and her clothes were burned to ashes around her feet. But there she stood with rage and defiance and strength in her eyes. And love. Love for her people. Dark skin almost glowing and entirely unscathed.
The Uzras were enraged. They pierced her through with many many spears. And she screamed. But she took each of the spears in both her hands. And she pulled them out. And there she stood, unpierced and unbowed and whole.
The Uzras then put her in a mound of dead branches. They tied her down and lit the dead branches. And they burned and they burned and they burned away. And from within them she screamed. But when the fire died, there she stood, cool and calm and collected.
One last time they tried burning her. With straw tied all around her body. The straw burned but she did not.
She told the Uzras that they could never kill her. And they backed away from her, scared. Gylla walked away from the hall of the Uzras in strong, sure strides. But before leaving out the door, she turned her head back and told them that there would be a war one day. And they would lose.
And so the Uzras were terrified. But Geyna went out among them and assured them that there could be no war that the Uzras would lose. The Uzras were the strongest and most powerful of them all. And they could even kill the Great God Puri. And if they could kill Them, then surely their power was uncontestable.
They did not know that Puri still lived, though They were dead.
And so they continued to rule the world with their violence and their greed. And Yemars were killed and captured. But the Yemars told each other secrets and whispered each other truths. The Yemars were one and nothing could break them.
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There was born among the Yemars a beautiful baby named Filla. Filla grew up into a young girl who was kind and courageous and had a strength about her that inspired awe in all who saw her. Though she was but a small child. The Yemars loved her as they loved all their children. They held hope in her as they held hope in all their children. They were awed by her as they were awed by all their children.
But the Uzras heard about Filla. And they thought that the Yemars were raising her to go to war against them. The Uzras could not have Filla become a great soldier in a war against them. And so they went out and gathered Filla and brought her away from her mothers to live with them.
The Yemars tried on many occasions to get her back. But they could not.
And so Filla grew into a young woman surrounded by the Uzras. And she smiled secretively. And though the Uzras thought her tamed, they felt a sense of great fear whenever she gave them one of her sharp-edged smiles.
Meanwhile in the lands of the Yemars, there were two lovers. Firik was a lightning Yemar, at one with the lightning. And Fiall was a leaf Yemar, at one with the leaves. Firik supported and helped Fiall with whatever she wanted to do and she in turn inspired and amazed him.
Lightning struck a dry and wilting, dying forest. It breathed new life into the dead wood and the forest of the area started growing anew. The couple had three children together. Pres, Nolvi, and Mamon.
Pres was a boy, Nolvi was a girl, and Mamon was someone who changed genders all the time, sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl, sometimes in-between, sometimes both, and sometimes neither.
All three children were deeply loved by their parents and by their community. The community did everything they could to give them a childhood, though they had to live with the harshness and the cruelty of life as a Yemar. And so they grew up with many friends.
So now we will talk about that daughter Karkion had with the Yemarian woman.
Let it be known that the Yemars and the Uzras had different ways of transmitting inheritance. For the Yemars, a daughter inherited from her mother and a son inherited from his father. I do not know what would happen if a child had no parent that was the same gender as them, but I suppose there is a system. The Uzras, on the other hand, only inherited from their fathers. This daughter then, would be a Yemar by Yemarian standards, since her mother was Yemarian. But she would be an Uzra by Uzra standards, since her father was Uzra.
Now Karkion wanted to raise the daughter as Uzra. So he took her away from her mother and placed her in the halls of the Uzras. She was made to forget the Yemars and that entire side of her identity. But she always remembered her mother. And she refused to forget.
Because she refused to forget where she came from, the Uzras mistreated her and hurt her harshly and without remorse.
It was at this time than a young Mamon was also brought from their own family to the holdings of the Uzras, to act as a servant there. So Mamon and Karkion's daughter were together struggling and suffering amongst the Uzras. They were missing their families dearly. And they became strongly devoted friends. The girl told them her true name, the name her mother had given her. The name the Urzas did not call her.
She was named Naia
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One day Mamon decided to escape. And they asked Naia if she wanted to come with them. Naia said that she was too afraid of what the Uzras would do to her if they caught her escaping. She longed to escape. She longed to with all her heart. But she could not find the courage to. But she wanted Mamon to escape. She wanted them to at least be free.
So Mamon did escape. And they changed form to be a fish and swam through the rivers until they found a great forest with trees standing impenetrably strong. As if their trunks were made of iron. And there they saw that Puri was still alive in this wild enclave of the earth. And there they decided to make their home.
Mamon hid inside the forest. And there they met another young runaway, who had found this piece of Puri and made a home within it. This girl was named Mira and she was one with the wood. Mamon was one with the fire. And Mamon thought it very ironic indeed that they should be friends. Mira was pregnant with three infant babies she had to give a better life to. Mamon helped her give birth on the forest floor. The two teenagers raised the babies as best as they could, and they both loved and took care of the children as their own.
One child was named Wolver, and he was a wolf puppy who was sweet and playful. He had great might and strength, and his power grew each day. He was gullible and easily trusting. One child was named Harimon, and they were in between boy and girl, and they dwelled in the places in between borders. They dwelled in the cracks in the wall. They were a serpent who twisted and turned. One child was named Oella and she was a beautiful girl. Half of her was a beautiful girl and half of her was a skeleton.
All three of the children were adorable and childish and filled with life. All three of the children were children. They were different, yes. They were what the Uzra would never expect, never accept, never accept. But they were young baby children and they were bundles of joy and love.
Mira and Mamon were the best of friends and their children were free as they grew. Mamon knew that they would have to free more people. They did not know how.
The Uzra were enraged that their servant had fled. But look as they might, they could not find them. And so they continued on with their plans to dominate the world. What was the loss of a couple of Yemars when the Uzra had all the rest?
Karkion wanted to know what the future was of the golden, gilded empire of the Uzra. An empire made of blood, though he didn’t think of it as that. So therefore Karkion used his magic to bring up a Yemar wise woman and seer from the dead. He demanded that she tell him the future of his kingdom.
She did not want to tell him anything. But he bound her with his magic and therefore she was forced to tell him whatever he wanted to know. She was very enraged at him and his hall. He could bind her, but she would not be scared of him. Why should she be scared of him when she was already dead? He could not kill her again.
So she was defiant to him and treated him rudely. She held her head high and looked him in the eyes, her own eyes blazing with anger. She mocked him and belittled him. And there was nothing Karkion could do about it because she was already dead, and therefore he could not punish her.
He did however force her to tell him the future. And therefore, with much reluctance, she told him of the truth. She told him that there will be a Great War that no-one will be able to prevent. The final war between the Uzras and the Yemars. All the Uzras will die but their children will live. Generation upon generation will fight.
Karkion heard this and he felt a great terror in his heart. He did not want to lose his kingdom and his immortality. But he was satisfied that his descendants would inherit the world and would come to rule it just as he did.
What the wise woman didn’t tell him was that this new world would be changed.
Karkion unbound her from his spells and sent her back to the world of the dead. And she sank down into the heather and melted into the ground. Back to Oellon. Back to her all-consuming sleep.
The Uzras combed all the wild lands for any Yemars that had escaped. There they found Mamon and Mira, and the three children they were raising. They were each four years old in this time. Not four human years. Four cosmic years.
The Yemars and the Uzras measured their time with cosmic time. And cosmic time was much different than human time. It stretched out much further and longer, like taffy being pulled. The Yemars and Uzras grew and aged in cosmic years, years that sometimes stilled infinitely.
Karkion saw that the children of Mira and Mamon would grow up to yield huge amounts of power. And he feared that they would join the battle against the Uzras. He feared that the Uzras would not have any chance if these children joined the battle against them.
And so the Uzras took the children away from their parents. The children were crying and screaming and reaching out for their parents. But the Uzras had no pity. The Uzras had no remorse. They ripped the children out of their parents’ arms and they took them away.
Hari they threw down into the sea. The child kept falling and falling and sinking and sinking until they reached the bottom of the sea. But they did not drown. This was not a mercy. The pressure of the waves over their body and heart, the tonnes and tones of water, it weighed heavy on them and crushed them, holding them down.
Little Oella, Karkion threw her into Oellon, the land of the dead.
Oellon was not the land of all the dead. There were two lands of the dead. There was Forkava, where the Uzras and honourary Uzras go. For there were a select few Yemars who betrayed the other Yemars and got accepted as Uzras. There were very few. The Yemars who were not traitors went to Oellon. Forkava was a land of vast wealth and abundance and plenty.
There were feasts there every day. But in Oellon there was only poison, and all the dead were in deep sleep.
Wolver the Uzra took a liking to. In the way that someone likes their pet dog. Even though Wolver had understanding and thought and sentience. The Uzras took him to their palace, and raised him there, away from his parents.
Before the Uzras left, they bound Mira in many chains. And they tied her to a wooden stake. They set her on fire, just as they did Gylla. But Mira burned and she burned. She burned until she died.
Mamon was devastated. All their children were being tortured and their dear, good friend was dead. Lost in eternal sleep. They did not know what they would do. How they would go on. They were about to give up.
But then they remembered a memory. When Hari was a year old, they were very small. They had to slither away fast to escape the predators in the forest. Not that there were many predators in the forest that bothered them though. But as Hari grew older, they grew and grew. Until they were big enough to take scare away the predators and they were the ones running instead.
Mamon knew that Hari would continue to grow and grow. And one day they would be big enough to simply rise up out of the sea. Mamon drew strength from that. Drew courage. Drew the will you go on.
And so they went, in chains, to the lands of the Uzras.
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Mamon knew that they themselves had magic now. Magic beyond what they could dream. Mira had taken them deep into the woods and she had taught them all the magical arts she knew. And this, Mamon mixed with their own magical arts. And together the two built and crafted new magic the likes of which could weave and craft its way through anything.
Wolver meanwhile missed and mourned his parents deeply. But still, he gullibly thought that the Uzras were on his side. For the Uzras treated him with the hierarchical benevolence with which a master treats his pet. Wolver did not understand quite how sad he was, and this made him even sadder.
But Wolver continued growing and growing. And in two cosmic years, when he was six, the Uzras became worried that he was growing too fast. The Uzras went to their craftsmen and blacksmiths and asked for chains that could bind the wolf-boy forever. The Uzra blacksmiths and craftsmen said that they could craft a chain that could bind him forever.
But this was not the truth. They could not. They did not know that they could not.
They gathered the sound of an owl’s wings, the sight of the blind men, the trust of a traitor, the end of the sky, the weight of the air, and the softness of a stone. And with them they made impossible chains that could hold anything. And they presented these chains to Karkion.
Now Karkion told Wolver’s best Uzra companion Rayr to deceive the young boy. And so he told the child that they would play a game. All the Uzras would gather round and bind young Wolver with chains. If Wolver could break through the chains he could have a treat.
Wolver was a gullible and trusting child and he did not let himself be aware of the Uzras’ treachery. He agreed to the game. He thought that he was very strong and powerful, and could tear his way through any chains the Uzras put on him. He was still a child, and did not know to properly fear the Uzras the way that they should be feared.
And so the Uzras put the first chains on Wolver. And he broke through them. Then the Uzras got out a set of chains that was stronger than the first. And again, Wolver tore his way out of them with ease. And the same was true with the next six chains the Uzras put over him.
But the ninth chain, the Uzras brought out, seemed especially metallic-hard and potent. Wolver was suspicious of this. And so he made the Uzras promise they would not leave him trapped if he could not break these chains. The Uzras promised. Rayr even promised to put his hand in Wolver’s mouth, and if they broke their promise he could bite it. But their promise was false.
As Wolver struggled to break free from his chains, the Uzras started laughing. It was at this moment that the boy-wolf-child realized that they would not free him. And he bit Rayr hand off.
The Uzras jammed a sword in Wolver’s mouth and they left him there in the wind and the cold. Trapped and in pain. But the chain could not hold Wolver forever. The chain would not hold Wolver forever. Wolver would grow strong and powerful, as the days went by.
Now we will tell you the story of Oella.
Oella was a lost and scared four-year-old afraid and alone in a poison world. There was poison mist all throughout the air. The mist was so thick she could not see three feet in front of her. She could not see the sky. Around her feet there was stagnant, stale, liquid poison. Each step she took she sank into the poison covering the ground all around her. Each breath she breathed was poison.
In the midst of all this poison there was no life. No grasses or herbs grew on the ground. No shrubs sat in the understory. No trees towered above the lands. There was no sunlight, only the strange, eerie light the poison clouds let through.
And there were no people.
For all the dead were in a deep and dreamless sleep. A sleep from which they did not stir or rouse. A sleep from which no amount of noise or shaking could wake them. Young Oella was all alone. She was a lost child, alive and trapped in the world of the dead.
None who is alive belong in the world of the dead. For those who are alive, being in the world of the dead sends rivers of sorrow flowing over their hearts.
But Oella walked on and walked on. She continued walking through the poison, the young child, softly singing to herself. She walked on and she walked on until she was sure she was dead herself. Until she was sure she was but a ghost, a shadow roaming the wastelands.
She missed her family very deeply. She missed her mother and her parent and her brother and her sibling. She missed the wilderness of the forest that she lived in and the homeliness of the little cave. She was overwhelmed with sorrow. And she was sure she would rather be dead. She would rather be dead than deal with this grief.
But she kept walking on, and she didn’t know why.
There was a voice coming out from amidst the poison. The voice was high and haughty and sharp and twisted. It told her that she did not belong, she would never belong, she would always be a lost wanderer in the midst of her sorrow. It told her she would never have any power and all she would ever have was her aloneness.
Oella was inclined to believe this voice.
But she kept walking on.
Her foot suddenly sank into something that was not poison. It sank into something that was cool, clear water. She gasped quietly. And she knelt down in the poison and reached out her hand to touch the water. It was clean. It was pure. It was flowing. It extended down deeper than she could reach with her arms.
The voice amidst the desolation told her not to go down into the water. She knew that she must disobey it. She knew that she must find her rebellion and she must find whatever truths the water concealed. Even if the price was her own life, her life didn’t mean much anyways.
So she dove down into that beautiful, cool, flowing embrace. She dove down and down and down, swimming further and further and further. She did not lose her breath for the water nourished her and filled her. She did not lose her energy for the water electrified her and soothed her.
Eventually, she reached the bottom of the lake. And at the lake bottom there was clean, fresh, mineral-rich mud that her toes sank into. And she walked on the mud, almost as if she was walking on dry land. She walked and she walked and she walked until she found something.
It was a pool of clear water that reflected the light. A pool of water within the water. A pool at the bottom of the lake. She did not know how it was possible, to have water within water. She did not know how it was possible, to have two different types of water both so good and both so clear.
The pool was just the right size around for her to dive into. And dive into it she did. And she swam down and down and down. Down into the very core of this world. And there she learned many things.
She learned her magic, and her element. She learned who she was and who her people were and what she was meant to do in this world. She learned how to rebel and how to care for life and death and how to transform everything until it was born anew.
And there, after she was done, she swam up and up and up to the surface of the surface. Up into the poisonous world she had left behind. She looked around. And in all directions she saw only poison and death.
But underneath that she felt all the dead. Sleeping as if the were seeds Sleeping as if they were promises. Sleeping as if they were awaiting to be awoken. And the little girl of only five years old, who mourned for her family and her home, she knew what she had to do. And so she set about to her work.
She walked among the lands and she summoned clouds. Not clouds made of poison but rather clouds of fresh, dewy water that could cleanse and wash away any filth. She want throughout the lands summoning clouds, steps filled with purpose.
And when the sky was filled with cool, clean water, she made it rain. It rained long and hard, the torrential downpour washing over all the lands and all the skies. It rained and it rained. It kept raining until the poison clouds were all washed away. It kept raining until the poison fog was washed away. It kept raining until all the poison that had seeped in and pooled over the ground was washed away. And then it rained some more.
When the rain was finished, there was brilliant blue sky and a wet new land filled with rich, diverse earth. Ripe and ready for life.
Oella used her magic again. And this time she summoned seeds. She scattered the seeds all throughout the land. And they sprang forth and grew and grew at a magical pace. Soon the lands were filled with forests and plains and grasslands and deserts and tundra of all types.
Oella went to the souls of all the dead animals. And she roused them from their sleep with her magic. They awoke. And they saw the living, breathing land all around them. And they spread out to all corners of it.
Finally it was time for Oella to awaken the sleeping Yemars. She roused them from their slumber and they looked around, with tired, confused eyes.
They had been asleep for so very long that they had had a deep and aching sadness settle deep into their hearts. They had no hope left. All they had was a deep, aching sorrow.
And Oella understood that sorrow. She understood it very well. But she also had hope. And the six-year-old child, who was lost and alone, who was missing her family unendurably, who was a living being trapped in the land of the dead, she knew she had to give them hope.
So she talked to them. About all the things that her parents had taught her. About all the things that she had learned on her journey. About all the power she had found. About all the life she had brought about and all the life they could create together if they tried. Oella told them about her dreams for the future and about all the change they could create. She told them that she loved them, and that love was a power unlike any other. She told them that they should love each other. That they should help each other live a good life after death.
And they listened. And they were awed. Such a young child who was so wise and so learned. The seeds of hope were planted in their hearts. And those seeds grew. And they grew and they grew and they grew. Until there was no more surrender left in their hearts, and they were ready to fight.
A young Yemar woman named Molia was a servant all her life. She did not think that she could be free. She went up to Oella and pledged her service to the child. But Oella said that there were to be no servants here. All would be free and all would be equal.
All the dead and Oella went to the edge of the land of the dead. There on the edge there was a river. And across the river there was a bridge that separated Oellon from the land of the living. There, they decided, they needed sentries. And Molia decided she wanted to take her turn guarding the gate.
The dead all also decided to form a council. In that council would gather together all the dead. And they would all discuss matters regarding the land and regarding their plans. They would discuss everything and come to consensus together.
Oella was the mediator of this council. She ensured that everyone worked together and listened to each other to come to agreements. She was seven years old at the time.
They talked and talked. And one day they decided that they must go to war against the Uzra and regain freedom for their people. The realized that their numbers were not sufficient enough for such a war. Also they were not trained enough for such a war. And so therefore they needed to wait. They needed to wait and they needed to train each other to build up their army.
They welcomed each new dead Yemar into their land, into their council, and into their army of the newly-dead so wished it. And wish it they did. Rage against the Uzra burned in the heart of every Yemar.
Oella’s mother Mira was reunited with her. She took care of her daughter and taught her her magic and all that she knew. Mira had a great deal of practical knowledge she could pass on. But she could not stop her daughter from eternally missing the rest of her family. She could not stop her from feeling deep, aching sorrow.
For Oella was a living being in the land of the dead. But she was one with the rain. She was one with new life.
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