Humans had walked the earth for two thousand years, their lives a quiet, unremarkable tapestry of days. Men and women moved through their routines, completely oblivious to the vastness that lay beyond their small world, never suspecting that anything existed outside their familiar surroundings. They tilled their fields, raised families, built cities, and told stories to explain the sun and stars, but their knowledge was bounded, their senses dulled to any greater mysteries. Yet, far above and beyond their reach, something stirred. After four days of traversing the unseeable spaces between worlds, Elixer and Elixic finally arrived, bearing the weight of ages and the secrets of forgotten realms.
For the humans, though, nothing seemed to have changed. Their days continued as before—laughter echoing in the valleys, sorrow drifting through the streets, all woven together in a gentle, unending cycle. They remained blissfully unaware, their understanding hemmed in by invisible boundaries. Still, Volva's power—ancient and restless—kept sending out signs, ripples that brushed against the edge of perception. Occasionally, a sensitive soul would reach out, yearning for something more, stretching inwardly and outwardly as far as imagination would allow. But always there was a resistance, a barrier as thin as air yet unbreakable. It was as if a glass wall surrounded them, allowing vision but denying passage. No matter how hard they tried, they could only wander so far before some unseen force pulled them back. This unseen border defined their existence, marking the limit of their experience and hope.
Above it all, Elixer and Elixic stood apart—aloof, watching from their vantage point high above the world. The land below was breathtaking in its unfamiliar beauty: rolling hills, glittering rivers, forests bursting with colors unknown to their own realm. It was almost unimaginable, so different from the desolate or chaotic places they had known before. The sight filled them with wonder, a sense of possibility they had almost forgotten.
Suddenly, a strange sound cut through the stillness—a wild, restless sigh, like the breath of the world itself. It was the wind, but it carried with it something more: whispers, memories, the echoes of beings unseen. Elixic reached instinctively for the Vulva, the artifact of comprehension, and as their fingers closed around it, the wind's secrets unraveled. Every gust, every sigh became a voice, and the truth revealed itself: they and countless others were trapped within the wind, unable to cross into the tangible realm of humans. Spirits, demons, creatures of myth and legend—all drifted endlessly in these invisible currents, exiled and yearning. The humans, perceiving only glimpses and half-heard voices, came to call these exiles the "spirits of the wind" or the "gods of the wind," attributing to them both fear and reverence.
Yet these spirits bore no resemblance to humans. Their forms were strange, shifting, often unsettling, as if sketched by a hand that had never seen a living body. Some were wreathed in shadow, others flickered like mirages or storms. Humans, glimpsing their shapes in dreams or moments of madness, called them the spirits of damage—the bringers of misfortune or change. Among them, Elixer turned to Elixic, determination burning in his eyes. "I have come to this world," he declared, "to take away the peace the humans know. All the other spirits scheme for worship, but I will claim their devotion for myself."
He continued, his voice echoing in the vastness, "I have discovered a way to disrupt the humans' world completely, to turn all they hold dear into dust and shadow. Their certainty will become confusion; their order, chaos."
At his words, one of the spirits drifted forward, its voice trembling with anticipation. "What would you have us do, Elixer?"
Elixer regarded the spirit, recalling their shared history. "Once, you all lived in the third heaven, distant and sublime, until I cast you out into this endless wind." His tone was both regretful and commanding. "But I possess the means to free you. I can open a path into the world below."
The spirit replied with a note of longing, "We have wandered these currents for ages, unable to touch or change anything. The longing to be part of that living world is unbearable."
Elixer spoke again, his words weaving possibility and hope. "You may not even realize how long you've been here. Time flows differently in the wind. For you, it may seem as if you just arrived. But look down—see the human world in all its vibrancy and beauty. I can grant you the chance to experience it, to become real in a way you have not been for millennia."
At this, a hush fell over the spirits. One by one, they knelt before Elixer, their forms shimmering with desperation and awe. "Oh, Elixer," they pleaded, "grant us passage into that world, and we will worship you for all eternity. Just give us a purpose again."
"But first," Elixer replied, "you must do something for me, something that will change the world forever."
"Tell us your desire," the spirits chorused, their voices rising like a great wind. "Promise us your favor, and we will serve."
Elixer gestured toward the earth below. "Humans possess so much—strength, knowledge, the will to survive—but they lack the wind of love. It is the final element, the force that binds souls together. Without it, they remain incomplete, separated, unable to truly multiply or transcend their limitations. You must become the wind of love. Stir it among them. Let them discover that they can love each other, even if they are blind to it now. Only then will their world begin to change."
From the throng, a leader among the spirits hesitated, his essence flickering with doubt. "But if we do this, won't we incur ALL's wrath? Is this not a sin too great to be forgiven? The order of things could be shattered."
Elixer dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, his confidence unwavering. "Do not fear. All of this is woven into destiny—it is already written, though none can predict the path. You are the instruments of fate, not its authors. Go now. Send forth the wind of love. Teach the world to multiply, to fill the earth with life and passion. How else will the humans grow beyond their scattered tribes, their lonely hearts?"
And so, the spirits obeyed. They gathered their strength and began to stir the winds, their presence invisible but power undeniable. All across the earth, the air trembled and shifted, carrying whispers of longing, hope, and connection. That night, every human felt an unfamiliar drowsiness, a gentle pull toward sleep. As they drifted into dreams, the spirits worked their magic, weaving the wind of love through every heart and home.
When the sun rose, nothing would ever be the same. The humans awoke to a world subtly transformed—desires newly awakened, old hatreds softened, new bonds forming. They would not remember the night's winds, nor the spirits' touch, but from that day forward, love began to shape their destinies. Families grew, communities flourished, and the world slowly filled with life. The spirits watched from the currents above, knowing that their bargain had changed the course of history. And so, the story of humanity entered a new chapter—one written by the unseen hands of the wind, by the spirits who had yearned for purpose and found it at last.
So, Elixer sent Elixic away, carried by the spirit of the wind, to seek out a new place among the other beings—creatures unlike humans, who roamed the hidden corners of the world. Elixic had never been among such unfamiliar company, and the journey was guided by the restless, invisible force known as the spirit of the middle. This spirit was an enigma, unseen and untrusted, who would later betray all those who relied upon it. Yet even as Elixic ventured forth, a crucial challenge loomed: the spirits could not simply enter the human world in their current forms. They lacked the warmth of breath, the pulse of life, and the heaviness of earthly flesh. The world of mortals was closed off to them, impenetrable and alien.
Trapped on the threshold, the spirits lingered within the currents of the wind, condemned to observe the world below without ever touching it. They watched the seasons pass and the skies change, always searching for a fracture in the barrier that separated them from the earth. Then, a calamity struck: the spirit of the wind, once a mighty guide, was cast out from the third heaven. The gates above clanged shut with a thunderous finality, sealing off all return and leaving the spirits exiled in the lower realms.
Down below, humanity remained blissfully unaware of these cosmic dramas. Their lives unfolded in peace, their gardens lush and boundless, overflowing with harvests. The humans lived without fear, their hearts untroubled by the struggles of the unseen. Elixer, meanwhile, found himself alone. Elixic, his companion, was now distant, swept up in uneasy alliances with the wind spirit and the middle spirit. They whispered among themselves, plotting and persuading, hoping to lure Elixer with promises of reward if only he would join their shadowy schemes. But Elixer's power was absolute—so immense that neither friend nor foe dared challenge his will. Not even All, the one said to hold dominion over all things, could oppose him openly.
As time moved quietly forward, the humans awoke to a new and wonderful awareness. The men looked upon the women and found them beautiful beyond words, seeing each other truly for the first time. Stripped of shame, they gazed at each other's nakedness, and love blossomed in their hearts. The people began to divide themselves, forming families and tribes by color, by language, by the stories they told. Each group set out to build its own destiny, and the world grew richer with their differences.
But soon, a change swept through the women—a swelling of their bellies that none could explain. Panic and confusion rippled through the tribes. The women huddled together, their hands trembling as they tried to make sense of the mysterious growth inside them, uncertain whether it was a blessing or a curse.
Elixer, watching from afar, was overcome with laughter—a wild, echoing sound that twisted through the wind. His ambitions grew. He yearned for followers of his own, beings fashioned in his image, loyal to his will. Drawing upon the restless air, he sculpted new spirits and tried to send them into the wombs of the women. But his efforts were thwarted; only one woman remained untouched by human life—her womb alone was open to Elixer's designs.
With cunning force, Elixer nudged the baby in her womb aside, carving out a space for himself. He began to shape his own form, growing beside the human child, mirroring its development. The woman suffered terrible discomfort, tormented by the unnatural presence within her, until at last the day of birth arrived.
She delivered two sons, naming each with trembling hope. But Elixer's creation, infused with unnatural power, grew rapidly, towering over his brother. Rivalry flared between them, and soon violence erupted. The giant son, driven by a force he scarcely understood, struck down his brother. The earth drank the first blood of humankind.
At that moment, something profound happened. The gate of the wind—which for so long had barred the spirits—creaked open, stirred by the spilled blood. The other gate, the one that imprisoned Elixer, remained locked, unyielding to even his might. The spirits, sensing a shift, waited in breathless anticipation, hoping that Elixer himself would appear and shatter their prison. When he failed to come, disappointment turned to desperation. They turned on Elixic, their former ally, fighting bitterly for survival. Volva, once powerful among them, found his strength useless in the shifting winds. Powerless, he lost his grip, and his influence tumbled down to earth, leaving the spirits restless and divided, their fate uncertain.
Thus began a new era, marked by both creation and betrayal, and the unseen spirits continued to circle the world, hungry for another chance to step into the lives of men.