Huenarnoan mythology

Huenarnoan mythology refers to the myths, legends, and folklore of the various ethnic groups of Huenarno.

Rálahoan creation myth
In the beginning, there was no Vanatas, just space. But it was not empty, as wandering spirits and entities inhabited the void. They had no names to call themselves, for they rarely interacted with each other, and nowhere to call home. This was the state of existence for countless thousands of years. One day, many spirits met in one place by chance, and for the first time, they thought about something other than themselves. After many years of getting to know one another, they began to think of other spirits wandering the void, and grew sad knowing they would likely never know the joy of being with others. Then, one spirit suggested they create a place for others to meet. They agreed, and so they merged to create Vanatas. The first spirit created the base for the others to work off of, forfeiting recognition of noticeable creation so something could be made of nothing. The other spirits used the first spirit’s form as a canvas to make the world; one became the mountains and hills up high, another the caverns down below, and many more became the sky and the sea, fire and ice, and all the physical features of the world. But while the shape of the world was complete, it was empty, not a plant or animal to call it home. So the last of the founding spirits became a beacon, on the top of the world, to call out to spirits in the void to join this grand experiment. Many ignored it, out of fear or disinterest, but a few, perhaps curious or lonely or with grand ambitions, began their journey across the vast spaces in the void. When they arrived, many found themselves unable to keep a single form when entering the atmosphere, and shattered. These would become the trees and flowers and insects and animals and people and minor spirits of Vanatas. A few, however, were able to keep their being in one piece, and these became the first gods. And even today, new wayward spirits find their way to here. Whenever you see a light streaking across the night sky, it is a new spirit coming to join the grand experiment that is Vanatas.

Fall of Rorier
Rorier was the god of passion, and after their lover died, they went mad and sought to end Vanatas, declaring it a failed experiment and spirits should return to their wandering ways. They infected the minds of their followers, convincing them that the universe would be better off alone. After Rorier went silent for a while, the other gods sent Luenor, then a war god, to reastablish contact. He would go on to go through many trials of spirit, breaking him and then reforging himself anew. Luenor finally confronted Rorier directly, trying to reason with them. When he realized they were beyond reason, he fought with them for three days and three nights, until he finally killed them (variations range from a somber, heartfelt chest stab; to an exhausted snap of the neck).

Black Echoes
Black Echoes are mythological creatures prominent in Ráhaloan folklore and public consciousness. They can trace their origins to the ancient story of The Fall of Rorier, considered one of the “Three Epics of Huenarno”. In it, the titular Rorier is the God of Passion, a title they exude upon their beloved partner, Lir. An entire book of the epic is dedicated purely to their relationship. So when Lir dies in a freak accident and the other gods are unwilling or unable to do anything, Rorier goes mad. They vow to destroy Vanatas, and send the spirits that make it back into their wandering and lonely ways. In doing so, they create the Black Echoes, shapeless entities as black as the space between the stars, who find a host to sap the joy and passion out of their lives. In doing so, they grow apathetic and complacent, with no interest in doing anything they once saw joy in. They were used to infiltrate the ranks of the other gods to make them unlikely to care about Rorier’s schemes, or even agree with them.

One Black Echo would attach itself to Luenor, the God of Strength sent to stop Rorier. At many points, it would serve as a barrier and a hurdle for Luenor to overcome, pushing through through sheer stubbornness and denial of his feelings. It seemingly wins in Book 12, where Luenor finally breaks down and gives up. But in Book 13, Luenor finds a way to overcome it, by finding things that give him joy and a reason to continue, creating a glowing shield around his soul that the Black Echo cannot penetrate. This gives him the strength to face Rorier in Book 14, where he tries to explain to them what he has learned. But Rorier has closed their heart, unable and unwilling to change the destructive path they have chosen for themself. With no other choice, Luenor engages in battle for three days and three nights, until Rorier finally falls.

While Book 15 describes the peace and recovery that follows, the Black Echoes persist, and in order to survive must leech off of anyone they can. Even the Black Echo that haunted Luenor continues to follow him, long after he has abandoned the warrior life. Sometimes, it says, it still manages to get close enough to his soul to cast a shadow, but he always manages to find a way to refind joy.

A popular interpretation of Black Echoes is that they are a metaphor or euphemism for depression, an explanation for why people suddenly lose their joys for seemingly no reason. In this context, Luenor represents a person who managed to overcome the deepest of depressions, by finding simple pleasures and new meanings. That makes the Black Echoes’ continued survival poignant; the original author, perhaps, was trying to convey that depression never truly goes away, lingering in the back corners of life, always waiting for the opportunity to sneak back in. But in the same breath, it teaches us that it does not define us, and we can continue our lives of joy even with it prowling.

Kiqteramal and the Dog Sisters
One day, not long after the formation of Vanatas, a new spirit came crashing into the world in the middle of a scrubland. She managed to keep her form, that of a great four-legged beast, but only just, and was seriously injured by her fall. Scavengers came from far and wide, ready to take her to the Sea of Souls. But an injured god is still a god, and she fended off her adversaries for ten days and ten nights. On the morning of the eleventh day, however, she was exhausted, and the scavengers knew this. They began to circle in closer and closer, and the fallen god's snarls became less and less threatening. But just as one was about to deliver the finishing blow, the scavengers retreated. In their stead, a young child came bearing a bowl of water. The god did not yet know kindness, and growled and snarled and bore her fangs. Both knew well the fallen spirit could bite the child in half like an axe through rotten wood. Yet, they calmly approached, jug in hand and pity in eyes. They placed the bowl down, bowed, and walked away. The god did not know what to make of this. She had never known kindness before, so assumed it to be a trick of some kind. For a time, she refused. But the pangs of thirst grew too great, and she finally relented. She started with tiny laps of the tongue, then large scoops, then massive gulps. When she was satisfied, she heard a giggle from the bush, and the child picked up the jar and went back on their way.

For the next few weeks, the child would return every day to deliver bowls of water. Sometimes, the child would speak to the god. Their name was Icro, and they enjoyed exploring the wilds beyond their village. It was on one of these adventures that they found the fallen god. After watching the scavengers close in, they rushed home. They asked their first father, a great potter named Juunil, if they could borrow one of his legendary jugs which could store a well's worth of water yet be carried by a mouse. He was hesitant, but the urgency in his child's eyes told him that this was for no ordinary occasion. Juunil agreed, on the condition that he meet whoever this was for. Icro thanked their father and rushed off back to the spot they met the god. Eventually, they realized that the god didn't have a name, as all new spirits lacked. They asked if she liked the sound of Kiqteramal, She Who Drinks in the Bushes. The god stayed silent for a moment, before her tail began to wag. She looked at it in confusion, but Icro guessed that this meant she liked it. Finally, the god softly whispered "Kiqteramal". And from then on, the god was named Kiqteramal.