The Story of Sol and Luna

Gather ‘round, children, and sit yourselves by the fire; warm your hands in its glow, and banish the cold of night away. Let me tell you the story of love and joy, of parting and sorrow, of death and new life. Let me tell you the story of Sol and Luna

Once upon a time, when the universe was very young; before Atheris had even been born, there were two suns in the sky. The names of these suns were Sol and Sola. For time beyond counting, Sol and Sola danced in the vast cosmos, where only the stars find their homes. Oh, how they danced! Around and around they twirled, without thought or care except for their deep affection for each other. Sol and Sola loved each other very much, you see, as only eternal beings of light can love. They had no need for anything except each other, and nothing in the depths of the universe could tear them apart.

So deep and pure was their love that in time, children were born to them out of their very being: Morenis, Atheris, Talis, and Sarun, where some say the ice dragons live. Sol and Sola loved their children dearly and gathered them close. For ages upon ages, Sol and Sola danced through the blackness of the universe with their children, spreading their light to all corners of the cosmos.

And then, wonder of wonders, something new and glorious happened! Life began to form on Atheris! Soon, she was covered in green things, and the sounds of creatures began to fill the empty spaces of the universe. Sol and Sola and all their children were overjoyed and gathered close to watch this burgeoning display; How exciting it was to be able to share the joy of existence with something new!

But alas, their very joy and excitement was their undoing. Sol and Sola were beings of light and heat, you see. Gathering close, they could only look on as the green things turned brown and crumbled and the creatures that lived therein began to cry out in pain and agony. Sol and Sola drew back in horror. What was this strange happenstance, that they must watch from afar, or kill the things they love? For the first time, a deep sorrow entered into Sol and Sola's world. For the first time, joy was mixed with heartache.

This revelation was hard for both suns, but it hurt Sola the most, for she loved all her children dearly. She wanted so badly to watch these living things thrive, but she could not draw near; she could only watch from afar, where the green things could not be seen and the voices could not be heard. Gradually, Sola grew dimmer and dimmer as sorrow dug deeper into her heart. Try as he might (and oh, he tried), Sol could neither comfort her nor offer her hope. Sola weakened and dimmed until one dark day, her light extinguished and she became no more than a cold lump of rock.

Sol and his children mourned wife and mother deeply, and long. In a cruel jest of fate, Sol could draw closer to his children, now that the vivacity of his wife was no more; but he could not face eternity without her there by his side. Sol decided to take his case to Sattava'an, the Goddess of Light. Perhaps she could bring Sola back from sorrow and death. Perhaps she could restore the joy they had once shared together. Perhaps.

Sol took his children and journeyed to Sattava'an's court. Once before her, he laid out his sorrow and heartache, his grief and despair, and begged for Sattava'an to bring his dear wife back and restore the life they had before. Sattava'an listened with compassion. Her eyes brimmed with tears as Sol told his story. When he had finished, sadness filled her heart, for she knew that nothing would bring back what had come before. They changes sorrow had wrought in Sola were too deep and indelible for even the gods to efface.

Still, in her wisdom, Sattava'an saw a way that perhaps joy might be found again, even through sorrow.

“Sol,” she said softly, “You must know in your heart that Sola as you knew her is gone. No power that the gods possess will bring back the fire that has grown cold in her breast. Yet, do not despair, for I do not say that she cannot be brought back from the halls of the dead.”

Sol's heart skipped a beat. “How??” he cried out to the goddess, “How can she be brought back? What must I do??”

“Go,” Sattava'an replied, “and find your wife's soul in the halls of the dead. I will keep your children here, safe in my court until you return. You must convince your wife's soul to return. The chance only exists if she is willing.”

“But how can I convince her to return to the life she despaired of??” Sol wailed, for he could not see how he could achieve anything but failure and greater sorrow for trying.

Yet, Sattava'an had a plan. “If you were to offer her the way things were, you would surely fail, so offer this instead; offer her the chance to draw near Atheris, as she desires. She no longer burns from within, but she can still care for the living things on Atheris. With your help, she can give them light when you are hidden. She can take your light and give it to them in their darkness. In this way, you may regain your wife, and she may gain her heart's desire.”

Sol's heart filled with both joy and sorrow, in equal measure. He understood the wisdom of Sattava'an's words and the chance laid out before him filled him with hope. Yet he also understood that he and Sola would no longer go dancing through the cosmos as they once had. He would no longer be able to draw her close and feel her warmth.

Even so, there was no choice at all. The chance to regain his lost love, even if only to love her from afar, overruled every other consideration. Sol made the perilous journey through the darkest reaches of the cosmos until he reached the hall of the dead. He searched long ages for the soul of his wife, nearly to the point of black despair, until he saw it gleaming like a pinprick of light in the muddled night. He approached her, and his heart was made glad, for he saw that she recognized him. He greeted her with a kiss, warming her cold soul with his bright light, and then he laid out Sattava'an's proposal before her. At first, Sola was silent, and it seemed as if she would refuse, leaving him to wander back in failure and despair. Yet, she too saw the wisdom in the goddess' words, and a new kind of joy entered her once again, where she thought all joy was lost. This new joy was weighted by sorrow, but it could be borne. She could find happiness again.

“But I am no longer what I was,” she objected, “I am no longer the Sola you used to love.” You see, she feared that he could not love her as she was and always would be.

Yet, she did not grasp the depth of Sol's love for her, even now. He looked at her, and she was beautiful to him, light or no. “It is true,” he said, “the Sola I knew is gone; robbed by grief and despair and sorrow. But even so, you are precious to me. I will no longer call you Sola, but Luna, for you will care for our children in ways I cannot.”

Then her heart was made glad and she took Sol's hand. Together, Sol and Luna left the halls of the dead, dancing through the cosmos one last time as they traveled back to Sattava'an's court. The joy of their dance was tainted now; mixed with sorrow, but their love for each other had deepened by that same sorrow; made stronger. When they came to Sattava'an's court, she was glad. She gave them and their children a place to call their own amongst the stars, so they would wander no more, and they remain in her court to this day.

Now my children, whenever you swelter under the heat of Sol, remember that his love for you is what warms you; remember that he chooses to be distant to protect you. Whenever you shiver in the darkness of night, look up at Luna and remember that her great love for you gives you light. Remember always and love them, for they first loved you.