I’m working on the outline for what looks to be a several book series set in a slightly altered version of our universe, one in which there are many Echoes of worlds, each with their own rules and people. ‘Magical’ Doors allow those who can use them to travel between the Echoes.

I wrote their creation myth, so I’d better understand the various gods’ motivations.

In the beginning, there was the bead of life. Elenwe saw the bead and plucked it up, but had nothing to suspend it from, so they drew out their essence and began to spin.

In order to use both hands to spin, they placed the bead between their eyes, and the light from the bead of life shone out upon the Universe. As they spun their essence into thread, the light from the spindle became the stars, and the reflections of those stars on the spindle became the planets and the moons. Gradually, the spindle grew heavier and life began to form on the planets and moons until the universe teemed with it, all various reflections of the brilliant light from the bead and the spindle. And Elenwe watched all of it, pleased with their experiences.

Eventually, Elenwe grew lonely, so they spoke the names of the smaller gods, and as the words spilled from their lips, so the light from the bead caught on each and the twelve gods unfurled, each from their own word. The new gods danced among the stars and planets, laughing and calling to each other and to Elenwe, delighting in the Universe. Their words called attendents into being; some gods had more than others, but all had companions.

As Elenwe continued to spin their essence into the thread of the Universe, they spun their own love and joy, but also their own anger and despair, causing the thread to be of many colors. Four of the smaller gods found these darker patches and tried to remove them, but when they pulled on the thread, the Universe shivered, causing it to form Echoes of itself. The spindle’s light glanced unevenly off the various stars and planets and moons, and shadowed places formed in the Universe.

The gods who had touched the darkness in the thread found their hands stained deep red, and their eyes burnt black. Their laughter grew cruel and their attendents voices harsh and shrill. These are the Lost Gods, and Elenwe wept to see their pain causing others harm.

The remaining small gods grieved the division and these, the Scattered Gods, vowed to work to keep their Lost siblings from spreading the Shadow further.