The Great Dance had ended for a time, and the Creator called out to his Anghali and Serafali to attend him in the deep heavens.
“I am pleased with thee, my children, for we have wrought wondrous materials and stars to fill the universe. Worlds without measure, and beauty everywhere. Rest now and contemplate our making, for there is more work yet to come.”
And the Ainghal named Lysandhor, to whom the Creator had given his greatest gifts, went with his brethren to dream and meditate on their labours. His mind, however, was always quick and needing to be active, and so it came to pass that he grew eager to start the Great Dance anew, and left the other Anghali and Serifali to their resting.
“I am pleased with thee, my children, for we have wrought wondrous materials and stars to fill the universe. Worlds without measure, and beauty everywhere. Rest now and contemplate our making, for there is more work yet to come.”
And the Ainghal named Lysandhor, to whom the Creator had given his greatest gifts, went with his brethren to dream and meditate on their labours. His mind, however, was always quick and needing to be active, and so it came to pass that he grew eager to start the Great Dance anew, and left the other Anghali and Serifali to their resting.
Nebulas are where stars are birthed…
Lysandhor began to explore the sprawling cosmos, wanting to begin work once more. Many wonders he saw, and many sights and worlds that seemed most beautiful and fascinating. Ever he looked deeper and further until, finally, his gaze fell upon a small blue-green world that circled a vast nebula of light, containing stars waiting to be born. This was the most beautiful of all he had seen, and he cried out in ecstasy to behold it.
“My son? Why hast thou risen from thy meditation so early? The Great Dance is not yet ready to begin again,” the Creator asked the brightest and most gifted of his servants.
“Oh, my Father! I was too excited to wait and only wanted to look more closely at what we have wrought.”
Again he looked on the little world, marvelling at its beauteous oceans, forests and mountains. “This world pleases me so much, Father. I would give much to make it even more lovely and fertile…”
“And so thou shalt, my son. But not until thy brethren hath risen, and the Dance begins anew.”
This was not the answer that Lysandhor wished to hear, though he smiled at his Creator in acquiescence. “I shall return then, but before I do, may I know what this magnificent world is to be called.”
“It will be named Ordha, my son. It is on this world that my mortal children shall dwell and prosper. This will be done when the Great Dance resumes.”
Lysandhor thought long on his Father’s words when he returned to the deep heavens. He wondered why these mortals should be given such a beautiful world to live in when he and his fellow Anghali and Serafhali must roam the universe without a home. But he trusted in the wisdom of his father and waited patiently for the time to dance again.
“My son? Why hast thou risen from thy meditation so early? The Great Dance is not yet ready to begin again,” the Creator asked the brightest and most gifted of his servants.
“Oh, my Father! I was too excited to wait and only wanted to look more closely at what we have wrought.”
Again he looked on the little world, marvelling at its beauteous oceans, forests and mountains. “This world pleases me so much, Father. I would give much to make it even more lovely and fertile…”
“And so thou shalt, my son. But not until thy brethren hath risen, and the Dance begins anew.”
This was not the answer that Lysandhor wished to hear, though he smiled at his Creator in acquiescence. “I shall return then, but before I do, may I know what this magnificent world is to be called.”
“It will be named Ordha, my son. It is on this world that my mortal children shall dwell and prosper. This will be done when the Great Dance resumes.”
Lysandhor thought long on his Father’s words when he returned to the deep heavens. He wondered why these mortals should be given such a beautiful world to live in when he and his fellow Anghali and Serafhali must roam the universe without a home. But he trusted in the wisdom of his father and waited patiently for the time to dance again.
* * *
When the Creator summoned all his immortal children to return to the Great Dance, he saw that Lysandhor stayed near to Ordha and the star clouds it circled. On they all danced, creating more marvels to form living beings, plants and animals on many of their worlds, including Ordha. The Creator, though aware that Lysandhor had concentrated most of his own comely gestures and movements on lovely Ordha, at last bade all his heavenly children to rest again. Once more, they looked upon all they had created in every far-flung corner of the universe.
The Anghali and Serafhali were all curious to explore the whole of Creation, and long they spent in gazing on all the wonders spun across the full span of the heavens. After a time, however, the Creator saw, once again, Lysandhor lingering close to Ordha, and indeed, encouraging his fellow Anghali to join him in admiring the work begun there.
For a time, the Creator merely hung back and only listened to his most gifted children’s words of admiration, as Lysandhor showed them how very beautiful the world was. Lysandhor ventured closer to Ordha and the sacred lands that the Creator had prepared for his still-slumbering mortal children. All the time he boasted of his own part in bestowing the rarest, most superlative gifts upon the landscapes and the beasts that dwelt there and in the deep blue-green oceans. At this, the Creator gave a mighty shout of indignation, that rang out as far as the far-off clouds of light that tiny Ordha circled. So strong was the percussion of the Creator’s ire, the Anghali were tumbled about in confusion and flung away from the beautiful world. All except Lysandhor, for he was diminished in his falling and fell down from the heavens and into Ordha itself.
“Thou hast coveted this world and neglected to honour our Dance properly, that should have been spread across all the cosmos, Lysandhor. Therefore, thou shalt dwell here, serving my mortal children who slumber yet. Make Ordha a paradise for them, though they shall dwell here only a short time before they pass through death to join thy brethren and me in the Heavens. Do this, and I shall release thee at the time when Ordha must wither away, and thou shalt rejoice with us once more in the universe.”
Lysandhor, forlorn and afraid, could only feel his misfortune most keenly as he walked on Ordha, though he still marvelled at the wonders of his new home. “Forgive me, my Father!” he called out in anguish, “Tell me how I must make amends for my folly, for how can I make this world a paradise if I no longer have thy favour or thy gifts.”
“Thou hast paid a bitter price, but I am not without mercy! However, thou hast still many gifts of creativity left to thee, my son. Use them well. And take good care of my dearest mortal children when they awaken.”
“It will be done as thou hast decreed, my Father!”
The Anghali and Serafhali were all curious to explore the whole of Creation, and long they spent in gazing on all the wonders spun across the full span of the heavens. After a time, however, the Creator saw, once again, Lysandhor lingering close to Ordha, and indeed, encouraging his fellow Anghali to join him in admiring the work begun there.
For a time, the Creator merely hung back and only listened to his most gifted children’s words of admiration, as Lysandhor showed them how very beautiful the world was. Lysandhor ventured closer to Ordha and the sacred lands that the Creator had prepared for his still-slumbering mortal children. All the time he boasted of his own part in bestowing the rarest, most superlative gifts upon the landscapes and the beasts that dwelt there and in the deep blue-green oceans. At this, the Creator gave a mighty shout of indignation, that rang out as far as the far-off clouds of light that tiny Ordha circled. So strong was the percussion of the Creator’s ire, the Anghali were tumbled about in confusion and flung away from the beautiful world. All except Lysandhor, for he was diminished in his falling and fell down from the heavens and into Ordha itself.
“Thou hast coveted this world and neglected to honour our Dance properly, that should have been spread across all the cosmos, Lysandhor. Therefore, thou shalt dwell here, serving my mortal children who slumber yet. Make Ordha a paradise for them, though they shall dwell here only a short time before they pass through death to join thy brethren and me in the Heavens. Do this, and I shall release thee at the time when Ordha must wither away, and thou shalt rejoice with us once more in the universe.”
Lysandhor, forlorn and afraid, could only feel his misfortune most keenly as he walked on Ordha, though he still marvelled at the wonders of his new home. “Forgive me, my Father!” he called out in anguish, “Tell me how I must make amends for my folly, for how can I make this world a paradise if I no longer have thy favour or thy gifts.”
“Thou hast paid a bitter price, but I am not without mercy! However, thou hast still many gifts of creativity left to thee, my son. Use them well. And take good care of my dearest mortal children when they awaken.”
“It will be done as thou hast decreed, my Father!”
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