Chapter Six
But though order had been restored, the cost was not without weight.
For in the stillness that followed, a great sorrow fell upon Terfelial. The loss of the Hyrelim—her First-Born, her cherished creations—pressed heavily upon her spirit. And though she was Queen, though she was creator, she did not stand untouched by grief.
And so she called her siblings once more to council.
There, in the halls of Araboth, she spoke not with command, but with reflection.
“I shall create again,” she declared. “But this time… not without purpose.”
She revealed her design—that her next children would not wander in aimless existence as the Hyrelim had. For it was in their idleness, in their lack of defined purpose, that doubt had taken root… and through that doubt, they had been led astray.
“They were not weak,” she said. “They were unguarded.”
And the Gods listened.
“For darkness may be bound,” Terfelial continued, her voice steady with newfound resolve, “but never wholly erased. And so these new children shall not only live within creation… they shall stand against its unraveling.”
And the Gods beheld the sorrow of their sister, for it weighed upon her like a quiet storm that would not pass. They knew the depth of her grief—the damnation of the Hyrelim was not merely a loss, but a wound upon creation itself.
Yet they also knew that her words rang true.
For the darkness she spoke of was no fleeting shadow, but a force eternal, ever waiting, ever seeking. And though it had been cast down and bound within the abyss, none among them believed it to be truly gone.
And so, when Terfelial declared her intent, the Gods did not rise in protest.
They stood in solemn silence, each bearing their own thoughts, each measuring the weight of what was to come. For though their hearts were not without hesitation, and though unease stirred quietly within them, they chose unity over dissent.
Only in later ages, when the echoes of that moment were recalled in hushed remembrance, did they confess that doubt had lingered in their minds—that they had foreseen, if only faintly, that the path before them was not without consequence.
But in that hour, they did not speak it.
And thus, the will of Terfelial was set into motion, unchallenged, and the next turning of creation began.
And on the very next turning of creation, Terfelial brought forth the first of her new children.
From her divine will was born a being in the likeness of the eggles and Hyrelim, yet surpassing them in radiance, and even exceeding the Hyrelim in both form and essence. This one shone with a presence that could not be mistaken, for it was not merely created—it was consecrated.
And she named this first of the new line Luth’ Meriel.
Then, as the days unfolded in sacred order, Terfelial continued her work. On the second day came Athengriel. On the third, Holindiel. On the fourth, Barmaak. On the fifth, El Gorimiel. On the sixth, Malkuhma. And on the seventh, Darmosieph.
Seven in number.
Seven in purpose.
Seven in divine design.
And when the seventh had been brought forth, they stood together in the heart of the great hall of Araboth, before Terfelial and the gathered Gods. Their presence filled the chamber with a brilliance unlike any that had come before—a harmony of power, purpose, and unshakable will.
Then Terfelial rose, and in her voice was both authority and blessing.
“You shall be known as the Arucana,” she proclaimed, “the Blessed.”
For unlike the Hyrelim, who had been gifted with fragments of divine power, these seven were anointed in the moment of their creation—each one touched directly by Terfelial’s hand, each one imbued with power that mirrored the Gods themselves.
They were not merely born.
They were ordained.
And before them, the Queen revealed the truth of what had come before—the fall of Th’ Eamon, the betrayal of the Hyrelim, and the casting down of the D’ Eamons into the abyss below creation. She spoke of darkness, of its persistence, and of the burden that now rested upon them.
For they had not been created without purpose.
Then Terfelial beckoned them forward and led the seven to the Gateway—the threshold between Araboth and the world beyond. And there, as it opened before them, she revealed the new world in all its splendor.
A realm filled with life.
A world of the eggles.
And as the Arucana beheld its vastness, its beauty, and its fragile harmony, they began to understand the weight of what they had been made to protect.
And Terfelial, Queen of Araboth, turned to her seven Blessed and spoke with a voice that carried the weight of creation itself.
“Five among you shall descend,” she decreed, “and dwell within the world of the eggles. You shall not rule them as tyrants, but stand as pillars of purpose—guiding, watching, and enacting the will of Araboth.”
She raised her hand toward the unseen world beyond the Gateway.
“Four shall stand at the corners of the world, and one shall dwell at its sacred center. From your strongholds, the order of creation shall be upheld, and the balance of all things preserved.”
Yet she did not name them.
“For this burden,” she said, “must not be given—it must be chosen. Let those who would descend step forward of their own will.”