Chapter Nine
On that same turning of the day, Terfelial gathered the Gods and declared all that had come to pass. And without delay, she set her will toward a new purpose.
She began the forging of an army.
Not born of fear… but of necessity.
Not raised in haste… but in preparation.
For the Great Mother Hen knew what the others now understood—
The breach was not an ending.
It was a beginning.
And so her work was not in vain.
For the coming of Umamphullies was but the first fracture.
Those eggles who had fallen under his influence did not all return unchanged. Though their minds were freed, something of the abyss had touched their essence. A whisper lingered within them—a pull toward the forbidden.
And some listened.
In secret, they sought the darkness. They studied it. They called to it.
And in their seeking… it answered.
Thus did more D’ Eamons find passage into the world.
And so began the long struggle.
For thousands of years, the forces of light and shadow clashed across the lands of the eggles. The Arucana stood as guardians. The faithful stood as defenders. And the army of Terfelial rose to meet the growing tide of corruption.
War and peace rose and fell like the turning of the seasons.
Until at last… the balance was restored.
The breaches were sealed.
The darkness was driven back.
And harmony returned once more to the world.
And when nearly three millennia had passed since the close of the First Age, a new stirring arose—not from the abyss below, but from within the heights above.
For Athengriel, who dwelt at the sacred center of the world, began to ponder a thought that had long lingered unspoken.
At first, it came as a whisper.
Then as a question.
And in time… as conviction.
For he beheld the ages behind him—the long years of watchfulness, of guidance, of guardianship. It was he and his four siblings who had stood unwavering while the world endured its trials. It was they who had borne the burden of protection, who had preserved the harmony of creation when it faltered.
And the thought took root:
Had the world not, in truth, become theirs?
The more Athengriel turned this thought within his mind, the more it grew—no longer a question, but a certainty.
And so he called to his siblings.
From the far reaches of the world they came—Barmaak of the southwest, steadfast and resolute; Darmosieph of the southeast, ever watchful; Malkuhma of the northwest, unyielding in strength; and El Gorimiel of the northeast, radiant in purpose.
They ascended to the great temple at the center, where heaven and world seemed to meet.
There, within halls carved of living stone and crowned with the light of the heavens, the Five stood together once more.
And Athengriel spoke.
He spoke of the ages they had endured.
Of the world they had safeguarded.
Of the order they had maintained when chaos sought to undo it.
“Was it not by our hands,” he said, “that the world endured?”
“Was it not through our vigilance that peace was restored?”
“Are we not, in all but name… its rightful stewards?”
His words echoed through the temple like the tolling of a distant bell.
And Barmaak was the first to answer.
She stepped forward, her voice firm, her resolve unshaken.
“What you speak is truth,” she said. “We have given more than guardianship—we have given ourselves. If the world stands because of us, then it is not arrogance to claim what has long been earned.”
And with her words, the foundation of Athengriel's claim was strengthened.
One by one, the others wavered… considered… and at last, were persuaded. For though doubt lingered, the weight of their years—and the pride born from them—could not be easily cast aside.
Thus were the Five brought into unity.
And their decision was made.
They ascended from the world once more, passing through the Gateway and returning to Araboth, the realm of their origin.
There, they stood before the hall of the Gods and called for audience.
And when the court was assembled, and the presence of the divine filled the chamber, Athengriel stepped forward as voice of the Five.
And he spoke their request.
That the world of the eggles be granted unto them.
That sovereignty be placed in their hands.
That they might rule it… as they saw fit.
And as his words fell into the silence of Araboth, the balance of creation itself seemed to hold its breath.
And Terfelial, the Great Mother Hen, beheld Athengriel and the Five, and she spoke with calm authority:
“Why,” she asked, “does your yoke seek this thing? Why must the world of the eggles be yours?”
And Athengriel, standing unshaken before the throne of creation, answered without hesitation:
“Because it is we who have tended to it through the long ages,” he said. “Through countless millennia we have guided it, guarded it, and preserved it. If any are worthy to claim it, it is us.”
And his voice grew resolute.
“And such a gift is no burden to you, O Mother—for you, who can shape worlds from the void, could fashion another in its place.”
At these words, a stillness fell over the court.