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Book Two

In the beginning burst forth from the deep caverns the blazing, brilliant light of Dhàl the Firstborn, which casting loose its fetters of ancient darkness flailed out into the black infinity of Void, and wove all about itself in flaming fury a fiery cloth of radiance, to bathe the silent heavens in new light.
 Now resounds a mighty music. The Void trembles before its promise; and from these same caves emerges almighty Aodhàn himself ablaze with light and colour, fiery spirit of creation, seething crush of sound.
And Aodhàn beholds about him the titanic bounds of this new space. Here between two Voids he resides in a great corridor of celestial rock, bathed in twilight and calm. For on one side there looms a Void of undreamt blackness, shrouded ever in a darkness echoing with lament, entombed in its own profound, shadowless depths, a place of numb desolation.  Yet, lo! the other Void is bright, for at its centre now hangs the blinding light of Dhàl, wheeling still into the empty spaces as if in hidden rage, spewing all about it a blazing wake of light throughout  infinity, from age to age. But between these Voids of light and dark Aodhàn now finds comforting peace, here within the Corridor which spans across from one to the other. For there pervades in this place a gentle gloaming, a twilit calm of blent light filled with half-known dreams.
Thus began the First Age.
And Aodhàn journeyed about the mighty vault which bounded now his existence; and he came at last even into the Void of Darkness. Yet, as he ventured ever further into its deeps, so he found therein no peace, but rather an uneasy, dread-filled eruption of nameless terror. Here resided a numb and silent agony, a promise of hopelessness and despair. Thus Aodhàn journeyed instead to the Void of Light, and he entered those bright realms in expectant joy, though here he found also no peace in his soul. Alas, the promise of the light Void was but an illusion, for here too did Aodhàn find instead the piercing dissonance of a dread, unremitting silence, a stifling intensity of empty agony.
So Aodhàn returns at last into the Corridor bathed in a glowing half-light, where now the warm gloaming hangs woven as a vast tapestry of light-spun aether, spinning all above and all around, shimmering wondrously in its spangled glory. And here Aodhàn gathers the lights and threads of this vast cloth and breathes everlasting fire into their very essence, forging therefrom the heaven's stars, all the wide beacons of the damasked firmament; and he welds them also into forms and paths, those constellations that Man shall ever know; for though we think them our unchanging companions throughout all the deep nights of our lives, yet upon this time they were fashioned from the very thoughts of Aodhàn, and sparkled in this early age with infant heat. And so did Aodhàn forge his first creations, and filled the heavens with stars and planets, faint clouds of light and distant shimmers of silver, so that later we too should know them.

© Copyright Paul David Holland 2017