Death is a hard thing, my daughter- hardest for those left behind. But like all things in this world, it has its place, as the Goddess has so decreed. Sit here, and I will tell you the story...
Before Mazana created the world, there was nothing but the halls of heaven, and the vast emptiness beneath them. Time passed, and the gods grew bored of their celestial home. Please, Mazana, they said. Make us someplace new where we may roam and play.
Thus did Mazana fashion the earth.
Again, time passed, and again, the gods came begging to Mazana. Please, Mazana, they said. This place is beautiful, but it is empty. Fill it with animals and green growing things. Fill it with people.
Thus did Mazana shape humans, with a spark from Magnus’ hearth, and a drop of blood from her own heart. Created this way, the first humans were immortal, full of a fire and passion that pleased the gods who walked among them.
A plea came again to Mazana’s ears, and yet, this time, it was not the gods. No, this voice was a human woman; Lakasha. Please, goddess. Please, give me a child. Lakasha had watched the foxes with their kits, the bears with their cubs, and she longed for a child of her own.
Mazana frowned. She loved her people, and wished to give them what she could, but the earth was small and humans were already plentiful.
My daughter, said Mazana, I can give you a child, but there will be a sacrifice. You will pass your life on to your child; they will be your immortality. So too will your partner leave this world.
Lakasha accepted the sacrifice, and three seasons later, she brought the first child, Asta, into the world. News of Lakasha’s child spread throughout the world. Some refused to make the sacrifice; their lives are a different story. Many accepted, praying to the goddess for their own children.
These children grew, and had children of their own, and passed on, a cycle that continues to this day, life into death into life.