In the Beginning

Two little birds were born, and had many stories to chirp.


In the beginning, there was nothing but a yawning gap. It expanded and contracted.

There were no sounds to hear.

There were no sights to see.

There were no things to touch.

The yawning gap stood between two very different worlds; one of mist – shapeless, and formless, and the other made of fire, shaped with spiraling infernos. Odin, the father of the Gods created something inside the yawning gap. He used the mist, and the spiraling infernos and clashed them into one, creating Midgard.

At first, things were quiet, and it kept the Gods busy, building suns and moons, balls of water and clay, but soon after, the gods decided it was time to create some entertainment. They created beings that resembled themselves, only smaller, weaker, and fleeting.

These people; men and women, were weak. They needed guidance, but they shined so brilliantly that the gods dared never to extinguish the flames they had graced them with.

The thing about flames is that the brighter they shine the more they burn, and their creations did just that. Their stories ran through the nine-worlds so profoundly that they caught the attention of every god, many giants, valkyries, and other beings. Odin lost control of his creations, and could not watch everything. In this, he decided to craft two ravens out of clay.

They were called Huginn and Muninn. They were the thoughts and memories of the world and were sent to listen to the stories of people, of all people, and they would return to Odin when called, to help him see true.

Odin’s calls came less and less as time went on, and with the rise of other Gods, he became less interested and less focused. Eventually, the Ravens were no longer called into the service of Odin, and became librarians, collecting stories and putting them away in a library of things. They recorded everything, and for the first time in their lives, they began re-opening the books after they had been closed, to tell the stories of the flames that burned brightly.


Author: Daniel

Sometimes, the worlds forget the stories, we don't.

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