I'll make some cuts so I don't crowd out everyone's LJ.
I apologize, this got a lot longer than I expected. My feelings won't be hurt if it is too much and you skip it.
There are three major races: human, Nef, and Faren. Interbreeding is possible. The Nef live in the far west across the mountains, the Faren live on a great plane on the east of the mountain, and the humans live farther east.
Magic flows through this world’s ground like water. Millennia ago, there was a huge battle. A mountain was raised during the fighting damming the flow of magic. Over the mountain to the west, magic is rampant and erupts from the ground or ravages the land as storm of raw magic called change storms. Change storm can unmake or remake whatever is caught in them. To the east of the mountain, magic is less, but available. In the human lands it is mostly non-existent except for occasional power wells.
Each race adjusted to the magic in different ways. The Nef became shapeshifters to survive in their constantly changing realm. Those with the most shapeshifting and magical ability formed great houses and are the ruling class.
The Faren bonded to the land in their area and become one with it. The eye color of a Faren determines their ability. The most common color is purple. Purples are the public people of the Faren, their defenders. Their gift is fighting. Next are Greens, the green singers shape and change natural objects: plants, trees, stones,. . . by singing to it. There is a big jump down from there to gold. Golds are healers and leaders. After that is blue. Those with blue eyes are shaman. The absolute rarest is silver. There are very few silvers. They are elementalist.
There is practically no magic in the human lands so Nef and Faren have trouble operating there to different degrees. Humans have no trouble living in the Faren lands, but shortly go mad in the Nef lands due to the overwhelming amount of magic. The Nef lands give the Faren the equivalent of a magical migraine.
One day I thought, what if the moon really did have an effect on people? What if there was more than one moon and they each did different things? This world has four moons: A red moon, Beyl, called the blood moon ,controls lust both carnal and martial; A blue moon, Rella, called the moon of power is a power catalyst; The white moon is Silla, the moon of spirit. Through her a gate can be opened to different worlds. This is called a ghost gate; The last moon is the black moon known simply as the harbinger, the moon of doom. The black moon is farthest from the planet to travels in a long orbit and is rarely seen.
Depending on ascendancy, apogee, and perigee, different things can happen. Moons that are full have the most power and can result in someone, under the right combination of variables, being “moon struck” this can be as minor as being dazzled or changed in a major way.
This is an oral legend that I wrote. Most people don't like how it is written. One day I'm going to rewrite it as a short story. The important thing about it is this where the series of books is heading back too, the return of the Reafian.
1. to split or break (a larger group) into separate factions or independent groups
1. to separate; part; divide; sever
2. to become separated; part
1. to rend; break; tear
O.F. the safe place where the faithful are held; nave (of a church)
M.E. to travel; wander
How long does it take for memory to become legend, for legend to become myth, until myth is finally forgotten except for a few dusty scribes buried in their catacombs of crumbling books?
How long does it take to forget something best not forgotten?
In the Beginning
In the time before the sundering, they were one people. They were the Réafian, reavers who rode between the worlds on great steeds, traveling on the light of the moon. Despoilers and plunderers, they took all they wanted, sometimes settling for a span, sometimes moving quickly on, their slaves and spoils in train.
Then, one night, they saw something strange: the dark light of a black moon. It echoed through the worlds, moonlight interposed on moonlight. Black and pulsing, it called to them. World after world, leaving a wake of death and destruction behind them, they followed the light of the black moon to its source: a baleful ghostly doorway as bone white as death hanging in the sky. Closer to the gate they rode on a moon path lolling like the tongue of a great beast tired from the hunt. There, glistening upon the great tongue like ropy saliva, were froths of blue light and red.
Their horses choked and prancing, through the glowing archway, they went into a bright day of summer. Their horses covered a plain of purple grass as far as could be seen. The riders milled about in confusion at the sudden daylight. Looking up into a blue sky, they beheld four full moons as bright as the summer sun: one, the one that had led them there, was as black as night; one was a brilliant blue; of the last two, one was the color of heart’s blood and the other bone white, the ghostly gate through which they had come. From the moons and from the land came great emanations of magic and power. This was a singular world like no other they had encounter in all of their travels, nor was there record of such in the histories of their people.
Now in the band was a man called Devin; he was a poet and bard which gave him great standing among the Réafian who valued such things. In his heart, he felt this world a good place to rest for many were weary of constant war and travel. Devin spoke to Cahal, the chief of the Réafian, about giving the people respite. Cahal was of a like mind and called for camp to be made, and so the Réafian settled and went no more a-reaving.
Several years passed and during that time the four moons rose and set. They moved in their celestial dance across the heaven each having a different affect upon the people depending on phase and combination in the sky, but never again were they full and bright in the light of the sun as on that first day.
Then there came the day that the wise among the Réafian said that the moon path of this world was closing. Since they had traveled in on the black road through the ghost gate, the same way must they leave. The people had to ride by the time that the black moon waned or be trapped.
Here began the sundering of the Réafian. This was a good land of great power. Many were tired and wanted to live in peace. They said, no more to reave and burn, no more to enslave and plunder. But Cahal would not hear of it. You would be as the cattle we feed upon was his reply. And such was his pride that he would not leave his folk to so demean themselves, but demanded their deaths, for the Réafian could not be spoils for others.
A great battle ensued between Cahal and Devin that divided the land and the people. For many days the Réafian fought against each other as the black moon slowly waned. Then, on the last possible day, the Wise opened the gate of the white moon and Cahal hastened his followers through. On the plain, he turned in the direction of Devin, and using the wind to carry his voice, Cahal promised a return for the Réafian for those left behind.
Unbeknownst to Cahal a great multitude lay trapped in a rocky vale. He thought them crushed by Devin who had sung to the land and rose up a great mountain. The forsaken heard their chief’s voice on the wind and their hearts were glad. To the west they traveled across mountains cold and near airless. There they found an unsettling, dangerous realm. For Devin’s mountain, jutting high at the edge of the plain caused a great disruption: what had once coursed like a great river now was dammed. To the west, the magic backlogged causing eruptions and surges, changing all that it touched. To the east, it seeped through the mountain and surfaced like sodden earth, one with the land. Farther east still, it dried up or only randomly emerged where well like, power lay buried deep and quiet.
Discarded in Cahal’s exodus were the slaves gathered from many worlds. Devin said to them, be free and fear no more from the Réafian. The slaves dispersed across the land to live in the east beyond the mountains and great plain in places most similar to their homes, others went as far as they could fly.
From the sundering, the remains of the Réafian took new names for their peoples and each folk adapted in different ways to their home. Devin’s people traversed the great plain and mountains according to the weather and called themselves Faren which in the old tongue meant traveler or wanderer. In time, the land became their mother and they took strength from her.
To the west, the forsaken called their refuge Nef, a safe place for those that hold faith, and so they become the Nef and their greatest city was Nef’aren for they had traveled and wandered to that place and believed that one day the Réafian would return to reclaim their lost children. The vulcan realm shaped the forsaken and they changed to match their demesne.
In keeping with the ways of the reavers, the Nef forayed to the east and made war killing all in their path until, after a great battle, they were pushed back beyond the Rock Mountains and the Faren stood guard on the Sea of Grass for the east, but ever was their conflict.
No more were Nef and Faren one race, but two, and as the eons passed they grew farther apart in manner and power until all resemblance to their filial race was lost, and indeed, should their fathers come upon them again they would not be known, but would be as strangers to them.