In the oldest temple account, the world emerged when a single dark expanse reflected a point of light.

Asterion measured the first horizon, Nalia lit a lamp for the first dead, and Oru began the first record. Kivuli kept the unspoken remainder; Tavi brought rain to the new land; Varo arrived later, claiming that creation had left something unpaid. The account is understood as sacred poetry, not settled history.

The world rests on the back of no creature and was not made for mortal comfort.

It is a small, bright province between the upper firmament and the deep country of the dead. The gods dwell beyond the visible heavens in a remote assembly hall called the High Porch; they rarely descend, preferring to send signs through weather, dreams, eclipses, and the stubborn endurance of old stones.

The gods are distant patrons rather than constant guardians.

Temples serve as civic institutions, hospices, archives, weather shrines, and places of refuge. Priests interpret signs but cannot compel divine attention, and a miracle is rare enough to reshape local history.

The dead descend to the Quiet Courts, a far-off country of pale roads and closed bronze gates.

There, Nalia weighs the shape of a life, while Oru keeps the names of those whose deeds still matter to the living. Most souls eventually cross the grey river and become lights in the upper dark; a few are recalled by oath, unfinished duty, or the intervention of a deity.

Asterion insists that mortal cities need laws sturdy enough to outlast their founders, while Kivuli argues that no law should survive its purpose.

Nalia and Oru dispute whether the dead should be remembered for their choices or their consequences. Tavi's storms repeatedly undo the boundaries Asterion draws, and Zuberi welcomes the resulting upheaval when it weakens the powerful. Varo, who feeds on ambition without regard for its cost, quietly fans every dispute.

Worship is organized through local temple houses rather than a single church.

Most settlements maintain a shared sanctuary with six alcoves, though individual communities emphasize different deities. Priests are elected, inherited, or appointed according to local custom; the High Porch grants no universal hierarchy. Councils of clergy meet irregularly to settle disputes, but their decisions bind only those who accept them.

A classical divine assembly concerned with order, mortality, memory, change, secrecy, and ambition, whose remote gods offer no simple guarantee of justice.

Distant, stately, and quietly uncanny.

Divine presence is felt through old rites and immense natural forces, while ordinary life remains largely in mortal hands.

The six span lawful good, neutral good, lawful neutral, true neutral, chaotic neutral, and chaotic evil.

Their disagreements are genuine, but no single moral order governs the assembly.