Each season, the great tree Drasoli bears fruit. Before there was light, blind Aira ripened in the spring and fell upon the grass-covered plain. She immediately began spinning the threads of life. In the summer, the tree bore Edekli, who measured the threads that Aira spun, and in the autumn the tree bore Marta, who cuts the threads that Aira measures.
And so they spun in darkness.
In the spring, Dupater dropped ripe from the tree. He climbed the mountain and sent the lightning and rain to the plains. Lightning pierced the darkness, but the darkness held. In summer, the tree bore Marsu, who brought with her corn for the fields and seeds for orchards of fruit, but the seeds did not grow, only weeds. In the autumn, the tree bore Quirinus. With his flame he battled the darkness through the long winter until the fire of his sword rose triumphant into the sky.
And in that new-warm spring man and woman fell from the tree. The twins Meshiaské and Mesiemblé ripened in the new dawn, warmed by the sun’s light and cooled by the dew on the grass. They built a house for themselves and for their children with the leaves of Drasoli.
The twins were showered with gifts. Dupater introduced them to the gods. Marsu taught them to sow and reap. And Quirinus showed them the metals hidden in the earth, and the arts to use them. For there were monsters outside the plains, jackal-headed scavengers of the abyss, and every man must stand against the darkness with his neighbor. Quirinus taught them this.
The twins founded the City; the City grew. Deep in the abyss beyond Quirinus’s light the serpent Tifá grew envious of the silver city’s riches.
Twice the dragon attacked the City; twice the twins and the warriors of Quirinus forced Tifá back into the unlighted waters.
Then Tifá took the form of a beautiful woman with long brown hair, and in this form she walked ashore. She went into the deserts beyond the fields we know, into the land of the scavengers. The jackals welcomed her. She led them against the City. And with her sorceries the City was besieged, using wisdom the jackals had never shown before.
Tifá took her new beguiling form into the City. She spoke in alleys, and in alcoves, and in the backs of temples. Distrust she sowed, and fear. For was not the City besieged, that had never been besieged? And the sorceries of Tifá worked from within the City. And the jackals clamored for a sacrifice.
The twins refused; none of the City need fear betrayal to the outer darkness, said Meshiaské and Mesiemblé. But the people whispered, and said, would it not be expedient? One life that the City might shine? Very well, said the twins. If there must be a sacrifice, we shall go.
Meshiaské and Mesiemblé were taken to the tree, and evil was planted forever at the crossroads. But the City endures, and its people endure, and there have been other kings and queens. And all roads begin at the millarium aureum, the golden pillar at the center of the silver city.
For their reward, Tifá returned in the city’s need, and offered her servants as servants to the city.
