According to temple tradition, the Concord began when three strangers met beside a ruined waystation during a storm: one kept a lamp lit, one knew a road out, and one insisted the collapsing shelter must be abandoned.

The story names them Sova, Kett, and Veyru, though scholars dispute whether the meeting was literal or an allegory for the first human rites of shelter, travel, and burial.

The world rests between the Hearth Above and the Unlit Deep.

The gods are not its makers but its distant custodians: Sova tends the boundary where life gathers, Kett keeps the passages that make change possible, and Veyru watches the spaces where old forms fall away. Stars are said to be windows in the heavens, though no one agrees who looks through them.

The Concord has no universal church or central authority.

Local temples cooperate to maintain hospices, road shrines, and burial grounds, but each tradition interprets the gods' balance differently. Most people honor all three at major transitions: Sova at birth or refuge, Kett at departures, and Veyru at funerals or the ending of a painful bond.

The dead cross the Quiet Sea to the Hall of Unanswered Questions, where they are received by the servants of all three gods.

The worthy rest in a place shaped by their deepest need: shelter beneath Sova's lanterns, a place in Kett's unending procession, or silence in Veyru's gardens. No soul is compelled to choose immediately. The gods claim no certainty about what lies beyond the Hall; they promise only that no one arrives alone.

Sova insists that refuge must be kept open, while Veyru argues that even the kindest sanctuary can become a prison.

Kett carries away what both would preserve, and resents Sova's attempts to slow the passage. Their disputes rarely become open war; instead, signs fail, roads diverge, and mortals inherit the consequences.

The Concord is a loose fellowship of local shrines, roadside hospices, and funerary houses rather than a unified hierarchy.

A town may have one priest serving all three traditions, while larger cities keep separate orders. Councils convene only when a shared matter arises, and their decisions bind no temple that did not consent.

Solace found not in certainty, but in the balance between refuge, passage, and release.

Distant and contemplative: the gods rarely intervene openly, and signs are subtle, disputed, and never a substitute for mortal choice.

The Concord spans lawful good, neutral, and chaotic evil, balancing protection, change, and the dangerous freedom of release.