It was, of all things, a scarab, which started it all. As the Goddess of Sun watched the realm pass by, the glint of its shell drew her eye. She called upon her younger sister Yati, and asked what it was. The Loamtender eagerly brought them to the Sun, as it was a favorite of her creatures: resilient, humble, and beautiful. So iridescent was their carapaces in the light of the Sun that, in her vanity, Er’yn sought thanks from it, and so went to her mother. The impetuous Sun sought that which would bring life and spirit to the beetle so it may praise the light she gave it. The Allmother, in part amused by Her child’s request and in part to quell her desires, gave of Her very soul to Er’yn a gift that she could use to make life, as she had requested.
The Allmother gave Er’yn Her Luck, and so arose the Tychenine.
With her mother's generous gift, the Sun had pulled forth a brand new being from the scarab's form. The once meager scarab now stood with a god’s stature. Pleased with her creation, the Goddess of Sun told a lie to them. She told them that it was she who was the creator of all things, the spreader of nature, the taker of life, the lord o'er the elements and all the realm and spaces in between. In awe, or perhaps fear, the Tychenine became devout to the Sun. In this, Er’yn took great pleasure.
All their lives, the Tychenine were devoted wholly to swarms of worship and offered unending prayer to their herald, to the point of personal neglect and inevitable sacrifice. Their deaths, unlike that of other mere beasts of nature, left remnants of power, their shards of Soul from the Allmother, and so entered into the realm new vistas of magic from their graves.
