The Branches That Wither

[A literary work which was banned in several civilisations upon publication. Only under the gaze of the current Alme has it been declared 'safe to read' in Axu.]

Prologue

They who once dreamt of a dreamless world - surely even they once saw hope in slumber, before they were forced into the eternal Unlight.
This work is one of fiction, which claims neither relation nor inspiration to living people or events. Let the false truth be recorded, lest all be lost beneath the waves.

Act I: Dreamless

The Sacred Mountain once nourished all the land, guarding its borders from what lay Beyond. No blades were ever drawn, and no tears were ever shed; even the ravenous dragon would descend to laugh with the lamb. The gods of the Mountain were exiles, and once took up ownership of this nascent world to nourish and protect it. Their names ran through the land like the unknowable roots of the Mountain:

Nai-Sal, All-Father, who shaped the land and its inhabitants;

Umo, Sower, who caused the earth to yield up its bounties;

Laie, Reaper, who stole a man's life when it was sweetest;

Emai, Listener, who bridged the worlds of the past and future;

Kusa, Caller, who drove the wind and rain before Her.

These rulers-in-exile were unmatched by the numberless horrors that threatened to break through the sky, and so the peoples of the land had never been forced to bow to anything which lay Beyond. But neither the gods nor the mortals knew that, far from being an undiscovered paradise, the world they cherished had long been cursed. As prosperity grew, so did the unseen pains of the earth and sky. And in time, that agony revealed itself, as a star-devouring monster - not one of those creatures from Beyond, but fully native to the world it sought to consume.
The World Beast lay in the depths, awaiting its time to rise and consume all those who walked the earth. The World Beast slumbered beneath the Sacred Mountain, awaiting its time to rise and shatter the home of the gods. And yet, this all-devouring monster was neither leviathan nor dark-loving oretha... but a seed of shadow in the heart of a mortal man, and a blessed woman. Who among the wise could have foreseen this - that the time had finally come for the earth-walkers to devour the towers of the great, and thus the world they loved?
As She listened to the whispers of two worlds, Laie heard rumours among the dead of a cursed multitude leaving the light of sun and moon - cursed because She had not been sheperded them out of that dream. She it was that first warned the All-Father, and that sent out the god-emissary Kaiar to bear tidings and search for answers.

Act II: Nightmare

The spring of the stone warrior was the first victim, he who once held off an endless tide of enemies. Yet they pierced his shadow, and he was turned to granite - and that lingering betrayal turned the clear waters into a flow of corruption as unending as the foes he once fought. The contamination overflowed from his granite heart, merging with the rivers that he had been set to guard over. All throughout the land, rivulets became rivers, and streams became screaming torrets of black and red.
Umo, noticing how the earth groaned beneath its burden, set forth with His golden sickle and rake. Barren fields stretched out countless miles from where He stepped to earth, scattered with the wailing, withering villages that had only just been prosperous and joyful. Umo stretched out His hands and commanded the bounties of the earth to rise from it once more... only to discover that the earth itself had turned against Him. Only thorns and dry grass would spring forth; acacia and yam and mango alike had been corrupted, and would not yield to His will.
And the rulers of the clans wept, for if even this hero's heart might turn black, what hope did his people have?
But as the world fell into decay, its horrors only grew. Those who succumbed to the corruption were lost to the ash and dust, but their spirits lingered - vengeful, burning shades of the lengthening Shadow. The Listener and the Reaper attempted to restore the restless cycle of life and death; the Sower and the Caller strove to impose divine order upon crumbling nature... yet as mere exiles, the gods of the Sacred Mountain could not undo what ailed the world at its core. Towers crumbled, and the people fled; shadows gathered as the sun descended to earth.
Perhaps even the witnesses from Beyond the plane of reality recoiled in horror, watching reality consume itself. Perhaps even the gentle Moon, eye of the All-Father, veiled itself in mourning clouds, and turned away.
Yet the nine Daughters of Man would not bow in the face of this world-devouring monster. These women inherited the blood of heroes, and their hearts were ignited against the World Beast that had desecrated all they loved. They took up arms, and rallied the clans around them, and went to the foot of the Sacred Mountain. There, they asked the gods for their boons: those exiled rulers, whose functions had been ruined in war.

"These emblems carved from the Mountain's wood... these sacred talismans can exorcise all evil." Thus spoke Umo, who once caused the earth to yield up its bounties.
"These hallowed metal tines... with them, you shall bring down thunder, lightning, and gentle rain." Thus spoke Kusa, who once drove the biting wind and rain before Her.
"This drum of sacred gourd... play it, and the forest of death shall follow in your wake, restoring the divine order." Thus spoke Laie, who once stole a man's life when it was sweetest.
"This knowledge of the 'cyclic dream'... use it to confront certain doom with eyes open and blades drawn." Thus spoke Emai, who alone could still fulfil his duty.

And so the might of the gods was blended with the drive of mortals. The roiling shadows across the land fell back beneath the Nine's assault, and the newly-ignited armies that followed them. Where the sonorous music of the tines played, the bleeding sky was returned to its rightful state. Where the sacred talismans were established, evil fled from the earth. And where the mourning drums rang out, cursed spirits were finally allowed to rest beneath the shadowed eaves of death.
Yet the branches still withered, and existence continued to collapse unto itself. Even such a bright fire cannot illuminate such a roaring shadow... unless, in consuming the fuel that sustains it, it becomes a conflagration.

Act III: Wakening

The Nine soon realised that they could not prevail through strength alone. The three gifts of cleansing that had been given to them by the gods were not enough to purge an entire world. So they once more returned to the Sacred Mountain, which had been reduced to a shadow of its former glory. Emai alone of the exiled rulers came to meet them, accompanied by the god-emissary, tawny Kaiar. They spoke long into the dead of night, and then left with the Kaiar. They bore no emblems, no hallowed tines or drums. All they carried were the flames that still burned within them.
With the aid of the strong-winged emissary, the Daughters of Man descended into a place that had long been lost to mortalkind. Those depths formed the belly of the World Beast - the place where ruined towers, weeping shades and crimson waters all inevitably gathered, to wander what had once belonged to the world of light. There, they found the heart of the World Beast itself... and understood its true nature.
For the World Beast first drew breath within the heart of mortals, and would not slumber until all those who walked upon the face of the earth had become one of it. The Daughters saw that, no matter how they subdued this monster, it would eventually return to ravage, in a cycle of entropy that would eventually leave only ash and ruin behind. The final gift of wisdom unveiled itself before their eyes. Even this great war was only the final act of a play about to repeat itself - a play under the domain of "fate".
But the Daughters of Man would not lay down their blades. Within that uncaring abyss sparked a pyroclasm, one that would have cowed even those watching horrors from Beyond. True cleansing was beyond the Nine's power, yet this was the nature of Emai's gift: to accept that the flame of mortality was worth protecting and that the fire of heroism was worth pursuing, even if all would ultimately become ash upon the wind.

Epilogue

Fleeting flame, eternal ashes. Who among us has the strength to undo the threads of "destiny"? Even my sight is clouded.

Author: The Wandering Heretic

Controversy

It is a rare text that manages to get banned in multiple countries at once, and yet this document achieved that within a year of its release. One of the myriad reasons for its outlawing was that its story was uncomfortably similar to that of the Endwar, which was still within living memory. Another was its less-than-hopeful conclusion, which was reasonably assumed to be a potential cause of unease and panic among civilians. Axuans specifically decried the author's blending of the mythologies of several tribes (most notably in the characters of the "Nine Daughters" and the "stone warrior"), which was considered both careless and contemptuous. Only recently has it been released for public reading, although its unusual author has not helped its popularity. 
Perhaps that is even for the best.