In the oldest account, Suth shut a gate in the empty dark, and the sound of its closing became the first dawn.

Brask broke a fragment from the gate to make the first land. Edda named the first dead, Qadir set their passing beneath the stars, and the other powers took shape around the needs and dangers of the new world. The priests insist this tale is metaphor, but disagree about what it means.

The world rests on a stone plinth raised from a dark, depthless sea.

Above it turn the seven halls of heaven, each separated by a gulf crossed only by divine messengers, dreams, or the dead. The gods convene in the far-off Court of the Meridian, where Suth keeps the threshold and Qadir measures the turning stars. Mortals see only signs of these proceedings: a season out of place, a distant thunderhead, or a familiar constellation gone dark.

The gods are distant, and their worshippers cannot count on timely answers.

Most divine influence arrives as omens, strange weather, remembered dreams, or small coincidences. Clerics and other devoted figures interpret these signs imperfectly; temples offer rites and counsel, not guaranteed miracles. Communities commonly honor several deities according to need, while priests argue over which divine customs must never be mixed.

The dead travel down the Quiet Road, where Edda weighs their deeds against the lives they touched.

Those she releases cross into the dim country of the ancestors; those who cling to the world may be detained by Nesh until they surrender their last grievance. The faithful disagree on whether this is a literal journey or a distant dream shared by all mortals.

Suth claims that the world survives through boundaries, while Brask insists that every boundary must eventually break.

Qadir and Volda dispute whether fate is a law to uphold or a burden to loosen. Edda and Nesh contest the care of the dead, and Hroth's storms repeatedly undo the works of Tarek and Gell.

The religion has no central authority.

City temples maintain local calendars and public rites, while roadside shrines serve travelers and household altars honor whichever gods a family needs. Priests may specialize in one deity but are expected to know the customs of the whole assembly. Disputes are settled by councils of local keepers, though distant sanctuaries sometimes refuse to recognize one another's rulings. The most respected religious duty is tending a shrine that no one else remembers.

A distant divine order gives meaning to mortal customs but offers no guarantee of rescue.

People make their own lives amid old laws, uncertain omens, and forces too vast to care about them individually.

Distant and classically mythic: gods are vast presences glimpsed in signs, seasons, and old stone, rarely intimate and never reliably available.

Their worshippers inherit ancient rites but must face the dangers of the world with mortal judgment.

The assembly spans lawful, neutral, and chaotic convictions, with good, indifferent, and cruel powers represented.

No single moral faction rules it: Suth and Qadir favor order, while Brask and Nesh delight in its disruption.