Stone Statues - The Beginning

Echoes Beneath the Hollow

Nyxsis, goddess of flame and fierce delight, was the first to feel it.

In the stillness between hearth light and festival drumming, her flame whispered of imbalance. Not chaos. Not malice. But emptiness. An ache in the weave of creation, as though one note in the song of Ge had gone silent.

She searched the fires of Pur for its source. She cast her gaze into the molten veins of the world, but what she found was no spark.

It was a shadow. Wandering.

So she went to Theadomma, radiant queen of Aer, whose winds carried every prayer and dream. Nyxsis asked:

“Have you heard it? The silence inside the joy?”

Theadomma nodded.

“The skies have grown still. Children dream of stone.”

Together, they summoned Pallamay, who arrived trailing the scent of river-mist and woven time. She said nothing at first. Only placed her hand upon the earth and frowned.

“Ravannah.”

None spoke ill of him. Not then. But the silence around his name had thickened. Once he had built with joy, balanced all creation. Now his works... eroded.

In secret, they began to trace the void’s growth. It drifted not across land, but through memory. Names forgotten. Feelings dulled. The past thinned where Ravannah walked. Not cruelly. But inevitably.

And though Virgo still stood beside him, her light could not pierce what he had made. A deep and ancient longing had awakened in Ravannah—not for worship, not for dominion—

But to be remembered.