Fables of Kalyphos - Chapter 1

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The Fables of Kalyphos - Chapter 1

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Author's note

Welcome to the start of our journey together. The story I share with you is not my own; it is but a glimpse into a great tome. I am merely an interpreter with a deep desire to share the stories of my world. As we traverse this distance together, I humbly ask you to leave your words of sage advice, your thoughts, and your feelings. It would be my honour to learn from you and to refine my craft, striving to speak the truth in a way that resonates with you.


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Chapter 1: The Unnamed Consort of Atermitra

Let us take a moment to reflect on this vast universe that surrounds us all. An infinity housing wonders far beyond our meagre comprehension. Yes, just before commencing this journey, for just one moment, let us close our eyes and take a deep breath to appreciate the grand scale of eternity before our minds are drawn towards that tiny little speck. Yes, just there… on the bottom right. Now, let us not falter… and see everything else fade away as we dive towards this space.

Keep looking with your mind’s eye. Look deep, and in this infinite space, nestled between two suns, you will behold the extraordinary world of Kalyphos.

Picture those two suns, one golden and one crimson, bound in an endless battle for dominance. The closer sun, Arkelios, keeps Kalyphos in a stable orbit, while the distant sun, Pyron, ensures the world never turns.

Much like its two suns, this world is also graced with two moons, Selene with her silvery glow and Nara with her warm amber light. Traversing the skies, they cast their shadows and reflections over all who dwell beneath like ever-present guardians.

Though one-half of Kalyphos basks in the perpetual light and warmth of Arkelios, the guardian moons dance such that even the bright side, known as Lumoria, follows a diurnal pattern, sharing the rhythms of a faraway world you may know as Earth. Meanwhile, the dark side of Kaplyphos, Umbra Terra, remains shrouded in eternal twilight, softly illuminated only by the gentle reflections of Selene and Nara.

One side is warm and vibrant, like an endless summer. The other is cold, though not truly cold, as the heat from Arkelios bleeds through the atmosphere. Umbra Terra gets just enough warmth to be habitable as well, though for life of a different sort than that of the world of light.

A Wall of Chaos, known as The Veil, separates these two contrasting realms of the planet. It is an almost impenetrable wilderness shrouded in danger. This treacherous expanse is a labyrinth of arcane energies and wild, untamed nature, where few who venture manage to survive. With its dense air filled with the whispers of lost souls and forgotten secrets, the Veil stands as a barrier. A deterrent to all but the bravest or most foolhardy from crossing its perilous breadth.

This is a world where the gods and goddesses actively shape events. Some may even feel familiar to those in your world. And much like they do in yours, most only intervene in the most subtle of ways through their champions, who most often, do not even know they are chosen.

The most powerful of these deities is Artemitra, the goddess of both the hunt and surrender, of victory as well as defeat and of submission as well as dominance. She teaches that in the hunt, one finds purpose, and in surrender, one finds strength. In victory, there are seeds of future challenges, and in defeat lie the lessons for many triumphs that will come after. In submission, there is an understanding of control, and in dominance, a commitment towards responsibility.

Much like Kalyphos's twin sides, Artemitra represents balance amidst contrast. Just as Lumoria's power and Umbra Terra's resilience coexist without one side overwhelming the other, she, too, has no favoured face. Revered by both heroes and villains, Artemitra is a symbol of duality.
To some, she is the quintessence of benevolence; to others, she is sheer malevolence. She challenges all and favours those who succeed. Her gifts are as plentiful as what she takes from others with avarice.

Through her chosen ones, she has a subtle but potent influence on shaping Kalyphos's history and future. Dwelling in both cherished dreams and dreadful nightmares, she stands by every living being. She ensures chaos and order coexist. She is that which fosters life’s continuous cycle of surviving, striving, evolving, thriving, and ending.

Artemitra is often depicted with many consorts, a trait that endears her to mortals who believe they, too, might win her favour. This multiplicity of companions is part of her allure, adding to her mystique and grandeur.

Among these consorts, some are the very embodiment of raw sensuality. One stands with a girthy manhood that juts proudly between his legs, as the goddess herself appears to be lowering to her knees. Her lips parted in anticipation, ready to service him in an act of divine union.

Another is a woman whose perfect breasts, crowned with the most succulent nipples, drive even the goddess to abandon her divine dignity. Her hand already reaching out to claim those luscious mounds, their encounter frozen in that moment, hanging at the cusp. This woman's form is so perfect that, to many, it overshadows even Artemitra's own ethereal beauty.

Yet, in contrast to these deeply erotic forms are consorts more mundane yet no less cherished. A mediocre, balding man, his plain visage softened by the glow of Artemitra’s affectionate gaze as they lovingly hold hands. A matronly woman of comforting presence, wrapped in a tender embrace with the goddess, their lips touching while their love exudes wholesome warmth.

Then there is the effeminate bard, his voice a melodious story of undying love. Singing to his beloved lover under the silver light of Selene, each note taking him a step closer to her heart.

And, of course, the lithe huntress, silent and deadly, returning from the shadowy depths of Umbra Terra with the spoils of a great hunt—the Gravenboar. She kneels before Artemitra, who, in this scene, takes on the role of a devoted wife. Her hands are ready to tend to the huntress's wounds as their eyes gaze into each other.

These consorts, both plain and unremarkable to pillars of erotic desire, each represent a facet of the mortal experience. Some are the epitome of strength and virility, while others signify frailty and subtle grace. The truth, though, hidden behind closely guarded secrets, is that all these forms are simply manifestations of a single, powerful entity—perhaps the only being capable of rivalling even the queen of all the gods herself.

What terrible secret does the identity of this consort carry? What dreadful price would such knowledge exact? Surprisingly, there is none. Yet it is best to keep her, yes HER existence, from the masses, for she embodies domains so vast and significant that their mere revelation could eclipse all other gods in the eyes of mortals.

Throughout history, more of mortal thought has been dedicated to aspects of her influence than to any other domain. Ancient civilisations crafted their rituals and beliefs around the principles she governs. Philosophers, writers, and artists have delved into the profound impacts of her realm on behaviour and societal structures. Religious and moral discourses have fiercely fought over her domain, reflecting its paramount importance to all.

Her influence often symbolises both the primal and the more nuanced, shaping mortal experience and relationships across diverse domains of growth. Even some gods fearfully whisper that the mere awareness of her existence could herald the end of their divine reigns. Indeed, she wields such formidable power, yet she chooses to stand namelessly by the side of her beloved.

Despite the myriad reasons for her true nature being cloaked in mystery, the foremost remains simple: she wills it so. Her blessings are not the result of grand gestures or divine interventions. They are birthed from humbler origins; they are born from the subtle stirrings of inspiration. Her gifts are conferred freely to those who seek them, sprouting in the hearts of the diligent and blossoming in the lives of those dedicated to improving themselves. She comes to those who hunger to learn, not to those who seek the aid of divinity.

Her essence often transcends rational thought, and her domain encompasses the very fabric of mortal striving and aspiration. Whether it be the humble scholar who toils under the dim light of a candle or the valiant warrior who sharpens his blade in silent determination, she is present by their side. She is the unspoken prayer of the downtrodden, the fierce resolve of the oppressed, and the quiet dreams of the hopeful. Her presence is a catalyst, igniting the embers of greatness within ordinary lives and empowering resolute hearts to reach greatness.

Yet, she is also the burning desire that kindles the passion between lovers, the whispered yearnings in the dark, where bodies lie entwined in exquisite pleasure. Her touch is felt in the heated breath and urgent caresses of those who crave each other deeply, their ecstasy a glimpse into the divine. She stirs the pot of mortal longing, the ache of unfulfilled desires, and the rapture of their consummation, making her as essential to the mortal experience as the very air they breathe.

She knows that direct knowledge of her existence would disrupt the delicate balance of belief, turning devotion inward rather than outward. Mortals new to her nature might forsake other gods, choosing instead to follow only her unseen hand. Yet, this unfettered pursuit of inner strength, drive, and desire, unmoderated by the virtues of other gods, would give rise to darker outcomes.

In their quest for greatness, mortals would indulge in hubris, deceit, and unbridled lust, leading to great ruin. Thus, she chooses to make her presence felt but never fully seen. Her gifts manifest as whispers in the wind, as sparks of inspiration in the minds of the willing, and as wet dreams in the loins of the besotted. Her guiding hand, much like her lover’s, illuminates and shadows the paths mortals choose. But their choice, that most essential liberty, will always remain their own to make.

She stands by all, even the wicked, for it is her duty, and her domain shall be denied to none. She knows, however, that the path of kindness and love often affords greater strength as it forges deeper bonds in the journeys of her adherents. What she represents is the very purpose of existence itself. She remains the concealed catalyst, fostering both the noble and the ignoble, guiding mortals to their chosen destinies, whether they lead to triumph or to ruin.

This is a being whose many avatars choose to live among mortals, opting to serve them rather than to lord over them. Each life is a testament to desire, purpose, and will, a whisper of her divine essence, a spark of true inspiration.

On the battlefield, a warrior experiences searing pain from his wounds, yet he is driven by an unwavering determination to rise once more. Despite his bloodied hands, he bravely holds the banner of hope aloft, embodying the powerful lesson of perseverance. Through his actions, he shows that real strength is not in avoiding failure. It lies in always rising after each fall.

As a loving mother, her heart swells when tiny hands clutch her fingers. Her eyes well with unshed tears as she sings lullabies to ease the pain of her ailing child. In that quiet moment, she embodies nurturing love. Teaching us that the profound depths of sacrifice borne from love are never for naught, however great the potential for loss.

Amid shadows, he wanders the streets. Drunk and homeless, he is just another victim of the sting of cold nights and the drudgery of unending sorrow. But in the depths of despair, he shares a crust of bread with a fellow lost soul, igniting a flicker of hope and camaraderie. Here, he exemplifies the lesson of compassion, that even in our darkest times, a small act of kindness can light the way.

As a queen, she feels the heavy weight of a crown. Her decisions shape the fate of thousands. One fateful day, she chooses execution over pardon. This is a decision that weighs heavily on her soul but is deemed necessary for the peace of the kingdom. Her life is a lesson in leadership, showing that true power sometimes demands difficult choices.

In the form of a mighty warlord, amidst the chaos and din of battle, he relishes the intoxicating thrill of victory, his joy found in the bloodshed and conquest. His heart is hardened, his eyes cold as he watches the light fade from his enemies' eyes. Yet, the bitterness of his existence is ever-present, deepened by the betrayal of his own son, who tries to end his reign with a dagger in the night. Each triumph comes at the cost of countless lives, leaving him surrounded by the ghosts of the fallen. In this lifetime, he learns that while victory can bring a fleeting sense of power, it also isolates, leaving one to bear the weight of its consequences in solitude and despair.

As a bound slave, she bears the weight of the chains and the unforgiving lashes of the whip with her spirit unbroken, even as her body is forced into servitude. In the dark recesses of her captivity, she sows the seeds of rebellion among her fellow captives, instilling in them resilience and an unquenchable thirst for freedom. Through whispers of defiance, she ignites the flame of hope that eventually grows into a blazing inferno, leading to the rebellion of the slaves. She demonstrates that the light of freedom and resistance will always outshine even in the darkest circumstances.

Favouring kind actions over worship, the goddess nurtures the sparks of strength from within others. She sees no need to declare her presence to the world. Unlike the other gods who dwell solely in the divine realm, she earns her title anew with each life she lives, transcending mortality each time and assuring that one day, all could do the same.

From her very essence comes the world's most powerful artefact, demanding a profound sacrifice from herself. Yet, this sacrifice ushers in the first great reign of peace and every renaissance that follows. Her every mortal avatar is her legacy. Each life is another tinder that sparks ever greater lustre for each era to follow. She is the divine guide who leads mortals to new heights of enlightenment.

Countless stories are written about her to this day, even though scribes unknowingly speak of her. For all that she gives, she asks for very little in return. While no grand temples stand in her name, she is honoured in the silent dedications of those who achieve the impossible.

No one utters her name in gratitude after a great triumph, yet she is invoked whenever one thanks those who journey beside them. No one calls out to her in moments of celebration, yet she is always welcome in places filled with love. She is the unseen force, the guiding whisper in moments of despair, the gentle nudge towards greatness.

Only one sacred relic speaks of her true nature and rightful place in this world. A single, ancient tome crafted by the world’s greatest champion in his final days. With pages woven from the finest silks and words written with great care in deep, eternal blue ink. It is less a mere record and more a heartfelt letter penned by the best of us to his one great muse.

The tome is entrusted to a select few each generation, a handpicked group of sages chosen for their strength of spirit and purity of heart. They are the blessed few, the Keepers of the Tome, who are entrusted with the most profound and secretive truths of the gods, truths that could shatter lesser souls.

Once every few decades, during the night of the two-moon eclipse, new Keepers gather in the Chamber of Secrets—a hidden sanctum within the colossal and ornate temple of Artemitra.

The temple is a towering testament to mortal ingenuity and effort. This magnificent monument stands as one of the greatest constructions ever conceived by mortal hands. The walls of this magnificent structure are adorned with the efforts of many artisans, exquisite tapestries, and a vast library of books. The temple stands as the loving effort of many generations and nations working together. This was the repository of knowledge, history and art collected and curated over centuries, holding the mortal realm's collective understanding of the divine.

Yet, carefully concealed within its walls, the Chamber of Secrets remains hidden in plain sight from all but those who know. Unassuming and plain, reflecting the modesty and humility of Atremitra's consort, it appears to be a small inner yard often used to store wine and grains by the kitchen staff. It is only cleared of its mundane remains when cleaning up for events such as these is used as an excuse. Within this sacred altar, as Selene and Nara align, a single sliver of light spills through the open ceiling and drapes the chamber in a silvery haze.

Only at this moment does the most valued enchantment in the temple take effect. A single lamp comes alive with its steady, unwavering flame. It sits beside an ancient wooden chest that only yields its secrets now. The Keepers carefully open the chest and carry the tome from its confines. They place the parchment upon the smooth stone table on which the chest sits. As their fingers unfurl the ancient pages, vivid illustrations fade into existence beside the words they read.

The images are strikingly vivid and lifelike as if they come alive just to allow the readers to feel the breath of history upon their skin even as they read. Yet, as quickly as they apparate, they dissipate, leaving behind only fleeting echoes and a sense of frustration—almost as if the depth of the profound truths they hint at are destined to remain tantalisingly out of reach.

As the Keepers continue reading, some of them laugh, overcome by the joy of understanding aspects of long-veiled mysteries or by witnessing the playful games between the gods. Others fall to their knees and weep, touched by the moments of sacrifice so painstakingly described within the parchment's script.

A few of them sit in silent contemplation, their minds entirely consumed by what they have read, while some find themselves becoming intensely aroused. The more lurid illustrations and evocative words stir their deepest desires. Their hands begin to wander. Some lose themselves in self-pleasure, while others seek comfort in someone else's arms or loins.

Each individual experiences this manuscript in deeply personal and transformative ways—to comprehend, even if only for a moment, the true essence of the gods would be ecstacy in its own right. Most importantly though, this reading would be the answer to many of the questions they sought to ask of their most beloved goddess and her enigmatic consort, true salvation.

This reading is never a mere academic endeavour; it is akin to a spiritual odyssey. It true voyage of the soul for the keepers. A rare and profound privilege to learn of the real history and hidden architects of their world.

On one such evening, the parchment is presented to a new group of Keepers. One of them attempts to recall as much as possible after the revelation ends. He diligently records his memories, and gradually, fragments of his recollection and understanding spread throughout the world, transforming into works of fiction in the hands of others.

Dear reader, get ready to immerse yourself in his inaugural writings: an unveiling of the most important moments that forever transformed their world.

- Continued in Chapter 2 -

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Comments

Poetry And Myth

joannebarbarella's picture

Very lyrical and haunting.

You've built an interesting

SaraKel's picture

You've built an interesting universe. I'm looking forward to seeing where the story goes.

Fascinating!

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Some very detailed world-building, with a novel mythology as well. I am reminded a bit of Tolkien’s Valaquenta, as well as some of the works of Dave Duncan, who has a fondness and deft touch for creating unique pantheons. This looks like the start of a fascinating odyssey!

Emma