For satyr Thepa Fox, the world of Sainta has been at war for as long as she can remember. Savage beasts ravage the land, and the once-strong alliance of the five nations is crumbling under the growing horde's onslaught. As resources dwindle and cons...
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The Chronicles of the Matriarch's Daughter
By: Wilran Stillfond 500 Completions AV
It doesn't matter if one studies history, astronomy, cartography, or even religion; all come to the same conclusion about the world of Sainta. It is diverse. It is vast. It is wondrous. From snowcapped mountains to lush forests filled with trees, those who gaze upon its beauty are awestruck. Bards sing songs of its glory. Artists paint Sainta's landscape in vain, their brushstrokes youngling play against the land's canvas. Historians write tales of its splendor, but the wisest scholars cannot fathom its hidden depths. The more one explores Sainta, the more one realizes its wonders are without end.
And yet, as wondrous a world Sainta may be, its origins are shrouded in mystery, leaving scholars and dreamers alike to speculate on its humble beginnings. Some theorize that Sainta's nearest star exerted its gravitational pull, gathering dust and rock from the vastness of space. Others believe Sainta isn't real —merely a figment of a man's imagination, conjured in a desperate bid to carve a name for himself.
Some may guess, but there is a truth. It was at this very spot I now write, some five hundred completions ago in my snow-covered cabin, where I uncovered the origin of Sainta. The world I had sailed across for countless generations, the world I had nearly given my life to protect, the world that had given me everything, wasn't the product of a star's force or a man's delusion. Sainta is created and sustained by the divine El.
Once I understood his truth, his truth set me free.
Sainta is more than just a world; it reflects El's heart. With careful hands, El divided the world into the Western and Eastern hemispheres, each location reflecting the balance of light and darkness, land, and sea. Mountains rose at his command, their peaks piercing the heavens, while his valleys dipped low, cradling rivers that would nourish the terra for completions to come.
El dotted the oceans with islands. They were alive at his command, their currents weaving life that connected every shore. El used his might to fill the waters with fish of every size and hue, from the tiny silver minnows that darted in the shallows to the great leviathans that roamed the depths.
But El's love did not stop just below the surface. He breathed life into the creatures that inhabited Sainta, from the smallest insect to the most majestic beast, giving them instincts, desires, and dreams. Each being had a place in El's grand plan. But in his final act of creation, El showed love by giving Sainta something no other world had seen before or would ever see again.
El created the five races of Sainta in his image.
The first was the Younglings of the Stars. Elves—majestic and dexterous. Blessed with longevity and wisdom beyond all others, patience became their greatest virtue, and reverence for the ancient ways their unbreakable bond. To friend an elf was to friend El himself.
Next came the Younglings of the Plains. Humans—adaptable and intelligent. Ambition, creativity, and determination fueled them to greatness, yet, despite their potential, some would tragically turn their gifts toward destruction rather than love.
The third race was the Younglings of the Sands. Galaks—the strongest and most different of all Saintians. Unlike El's other younglings, Galaks stood apart; the backsides of their body covered in fur, complemented by pointed ears and elongated tails. While vast armies of Galaks could conquer the world, their true strength lay not in their muscles, but in their tender hearts and kind dispositions.
Fourth were the Younglings of the Trees. Halflings—the perfect embodiment of El's playful essence. Childlike in nature and stature, the smallest of all races found joy in all creation, as if one needed to retain a youthful spirit to appreciate the gift El had given them.
Finally, there were the Younglings of the Mountains. Satyrs—El's chosen. Known for their commitment to sacrifice and harmony with nature, the satyrs possessed a fierce loyalty to their own above all else. Their bond with one another was so unbreakable that some believe even El himself struggled to understand its depth.
El treated each one as his own. Nothing in all of creation would have stopped him from loving any single one of them. Still, despite his love, iniquity plagued his creation. A power never before seen would slowly pull the five races apart, leading to war. The whole lot of them might have died to its devastating toll had El not stepped in.
On one faithful day, hundreds of completions before I was born, El took one of his chosen to save the world from itself. The embodiment of that spirit would eventually become my friend and my sister.
