The ring of tall oak trees that surrounded the crystal pool in the center grew tightly together, forming a wall of green and brown in an almost perfect circle, deep in the forest. The water of the pool was clear and reflected the sunlight from overhead, creating flashes of brilliant light, twinkling with a magical aura that radiated peace and beauty.
The sky above was a glorious blue with wisps of scattered white clouds, creating a magnificent diorama as a canopy to cover the forested scene below. It was a warm and beautiful day, as it was every day. There were no seasons, no storms, the weather was always lovely, even when it rained. The First Era of Hir was a paradise of beauty and comfort for all.
Within the great mirrored representation of the Crux of Creation, gathered the Mythica, sons and daughters of the Spirits of Creation. These were the eleven Mythica who remained, those whose Spirit parents had not abandoned their creator and joined the Dark Spirits of Destruction. The most prominent was Ramura, son of Ashera, the Spirit of the Lion. As Ashera was considered the leader of the Spirits of Creation, so too was Ramura acknowledged as the leader of the loyal Mythica. He was a natural leader and source of strength for the others.
“My brothers and sisters of Hir,” spoke Ramura into the minds of those in attendance. “Despite our attempts to prevent it, war has come to Hir.”
Each of the Mythica had unique and special abilities, but they all shared the ability to communicate telepathically, not only with each other, but with any creature of Hir. They also shared the gift of immortality, and given the right conditions, would live for all eternity. The betrayal of Narwyrm, however, had brought on the curse of death, and though immortal, they could be harmed, and even killed by physical or magical means.
“At this moment,” continued Ramura, “Narvanth and the Dragons have begun to subjugate all creatures to their will, conquering where resistance is met, and destroying any who stand in their way. It is time for us to unite and gather a defense against the traitors. We must fight.”
It was Diala who responded first. “How? How can we stand against them? The Dragons are strong, their magic is superior to our own and their breath means death. They wield the very forces of creation against us.”
Diala stamped a hoof as she felt the fear they all now shared. Narwyrm’s rebellion had brought upon all of them the curse of death, the ability to feel pain, to bleed, and to die. Even Ramura feared death, but if they did nothing, death would come for them anyway. Narvanth and the Dragons knew no mercy, and would destroy them all if they did not surrender and become traitors against He who had no name, He who had created them all. They all understood what this meant, they could not surrender.
“What must be done?” asked Rodar. His feathers ruffled as he stepped side to side on his huge clawed talons.
“We must encourage all of creation to stand against them. Make no mistake, however, this is war, and war means some will die.” Ramura would rather die than surrender, and he hoped the others would come to that same conclusion. “If we die, we go home to the Crux of Creation, to be with Him, our creator, to be with our Spirit parent for all time. If we surrender, we will be accursed and cast out, just as Narwyrm and his followers. How can we turn our hearts from the one who gave us life? He who knows all things has seen fit to allow us to choose, but the only true choice I see is to stand with Him.”
There were telepathic murmurs among those assembled, but none could find fault in Ramura’s reasoning. The son of Ashera was right. They must fight. Many heads nodded in ascension to what they must do.
“Then we must prepare,” said Ramura.
He looked around the circle, at all the Mythica. To Bargar, the son of Odris. To Hucyn and Varor, the Wolf Twins, and their brother Tywulf, the Lone Wolf. To Del, the daughter of Deja. To Rodar, the son of Baltro. To Kanan and Drak, the son and daughter of Tanlas. To Diala, the daughter of Landir, and Caroku, the son of Landir. They all looked back at him with resignation and determination. They were a family, and he loved every single one of them.
“Go to the creatures of Hir,” said Ramura finally, “and let them understand what we must face and what must be done. Hucyn and Varor, as the most intelligent among us, you must make a plan for war against the Dragons, and Del will temper our plans with her wisdom. Rodar, it will be up to you to sound the alarm when needed and encourage all to stand against the darkness. Kanan and Drak will be our messengers. Diala will organize an infirmary for healing and taking care of the wounded.”
Ramura was assigning tasks according to their talents and abilities. As he spoke to each, they nodded in affirmation, ready to do what must be done.
“Caroku,” said Ramura to the great stag, “You will be our standard bearer, our inspiration for courage.” Then he looked at Bargar, the Lord of the Bears. “You, my brother, will be in charge of our defenses, a bastion against the onslaught that is surely to come.”
Caroku and Bargar nodded agreement. Ramura, finally, turned to Tywulf, the Lone Wolf. “You are the most cunning among us. You will be our spy. We will depend on you to keep us informed of what the Dragons are doing and where they are located.”
All agreed to their assignments. They were ready to begin their preparations.
“From this day,” said Ramura, “we are the Mythica of Light. We stand against the darkness that threatens our world. Are we agreed?”
All raised their heads, some howled, some screeched, some roared, but all sounded their shout of agreement.