The way the story goes, or the way that I was told, there was a wanderer that walks a lonely road, a god of the travels and the wild, a nameless one, with quick fingers and glistening eyes and a coat like a thousand scales of silver.
Outis, that nameless God, is one that walks the distance, that roams the world, once going far, once staying close, once western, eastern, traveling south and north. He had seen all that was to see on the earth and so when his friends and spies, those that curl on sun heated rocks and slither through high grass told him of a peculiar newcomer in the western wilds, a spirit that had never been seen before on earth before, he packed his bags and went forth to find who was lost.
It was a hard journey, through silver mountains and dark caverns, through meadows of sweetly toxic flowers and over monstrous rivers. The Moon did not guide the god, as its silver light had vanished from the skies and only the light of the fair magician of the east could guide him now. It was midnight when he arrived, an open field of grass before him.
In the dark of the night, the grass seemed grey and as Outis strode through it, he noticed a river wounding itself through the wildlands and he followed it. Soon, he found who he was looking for.
That spirit we know now as Candelario of the silver ways, a favoured Goddex of many mortal poets throughout the centuries was a sly one, one of many powers, child of the moon. They had come down to the earth to find the court and company, as they had been friends with the Dreamer in the clouds and the Magician of Spring, Himiko, for quite a while, and so they had left their usual spot in the heavens, making the night dark with the absence of her light.
When Outis approached, they did not turn, one recognised the other as another god immediately. They sat at the edge of the river; feet dipped in the water that seemed crystalline in their light. There was a bat sitting beside them, drinking from some nearby flowers. Their silver eye was pitted up at where their usual ways would have been.
Outis sat down beside them and waited. The darkest of midnights passed. Then, they spoke.
"The Sky looks beautiful from the earth."
Their voice was like a moonlit spring, trickling down a mountain, like a giggling stream. Outis chose his words wisely and tilted his head, looking at them. Their face was like that of a fine marble statue, three dark eyes focused on drinking in the world around them.
"It looked more beautiful with you in it. The Sky envies the earth, now that it has lost you."
He admitted, not a trace of doubt in those words. Poets, those that see beauty in all the things of the heaven and the earth do not have trouble with speaking well deserved compliments.
There was a long silence again, and when Candelario moved to send the bat away, their clothes moving like fluttering batwings and silver wolvenfur.
"The Night is lonely, up there."
Outis smiled and nodded.
"So is the wild. And yet we are not alone."
They looked at him and the river stopped flowing, showing their surprise.
"Oh?"
Outis nodded.
"The Lady awaits you."
Candelario looked at the stars again, scoffing.
"What does the Goddess have to give to a mere spirit of the moon?"
Outis stepped in front of them, stretching out a hand. They hesitated, taking it eventually. Outis pulled them to a stand, looking directly at them, with eyes as blue as Herolds egg and a well-trained sharp smile.
"A crown, fellow God. And a seat at the table round."
And with that, he led them away, calling upon one of Cocidus' stags to bring them to the palace.
They rode for many days, going the fastest way possible while Outis showed them the land. The Mortals flocked from far and wide to greet the newest member of the Pantheon, the story of a goddess of rivers, of moonlight and shadow, a goddess of bats and winged creatures of the night, of fluttering moths and fluttering feelings, story of a twit, made their rounds. The tales the mortals told themselves about Candelario were many-sided, some turned them into a story of Kaguya, Moon spirit, some told of a Lady of the Lake that later went on to gift those of worth with frozen moonbeams, some told of an Angel of the Night, of They who shine light into the darkest alleys to protect those that walk the darkness alone.
And so, I had already heard of them before they arrived, and the Court rejoiced in having a fellow small God return home. Auryn stepped before them and greeted them as who they were and adorned them with a crown of Moonstone and greeted them as Goddess of the Moon and of all the rivers that flow in the lands and feed Jidaos realm. Later, when they found that the Mortals missed the light, they had given them, they gave up their third eyes so they may watch from the skies again without having to leave the sides of those they had learned to favour.
And thus, we all know, none walk alone. Eventhose that travel far, those in the skies above or the caves below, those thatare lost, those that are found, those withered and old and those immortal andeternally young, all of them are under the watch of the gods that move theirfate and when you see someone walk alone, dipped in Moonlight, know that thereis someone that walks with them.
