It is written that once, in an age now long past, the world was filled with powerful but terrible energies that twisted and swirled within an inchoate void. The darkness of the void gave rise to a host of demons, hideous of form and savage of temperament. These demons proliferated in the world they created to amuse themselves, delighting in destroying what they built. By their works and hands the earth and the seas were blighted, and the sun blinded and blistered those who walked under the sky unguarded.
One demon among the thronging masses, as unlike her horrific brethren as day is to night, was blessed with an unusual share of wisdom and courage. Desiring to create order from chaos, she gathered the spiraling strands of magic into gossamer threads that could be touched by mortal hands. Having already come so far, she did not rest but marshaled her strength and wove these threads into all the peoples of the world, each occupying their proper place. The Weaver then shed her demonic horns and, thus cleansed and unburdened, came into her full radiance. She took a shining sword into her hands and led her children in a great battle against the monstrous demons that had survived the great transformation.
Once this final task had been completed and peace finally settled onto the shoulders of the freshly formed lands, the Weaver established kingdoms, Whitespire the first and greatest among them. The Weaver’s descendants took their places as the queens and kings of the new world, and she tasked them with purifying the pollution that lingered in the earth and protecting their peoples from the seas that burned and the fire that rained from the heavens. The noble line of these early monarchs still reigns to this day in Whitespire, the most enlightened and beautiful of cities, where the Weaver is honored and celebrated by all who receive her munificent blessings.