Before there were Kings, castles and knights - before magic had ever touched the green grass we walk on, there was the Great Fall.
Taught throughout Aelis as the beginning of their time, the Elders held it in as their greatest plague. Not to be allowed back into the gates they worshipped, not to be damned below, they ventured together until they settled upon Athemoth - the very first site of life. From there, The Elders took it upon themselves to create what their own had held so close - magic. Through trial and error, they created their own versions of the mortal realm. Dry, rocky terrain with dust blowing through the air became flowing rivers, pastures of rolling grass with flowers. The flat lands grew mountains that toward over, snowy peaks waving in the distance as oceans grew. That is where they lived - for centuries, in the perfect gardens they grew.
For every good deed, however, there was the company of others.
Fellow Elders had grew jealous of the mortals their god had cared for so much, so they created their own. Nymphs to care for the water, ones for the gardens and the hills - ones to hone fire and ice, the creations began to run wild throughout Athemoth. Monsters, the mortals had called them. Monsters meant to torment and destroy, plagued with the greed and anger of their makers.
Until there was one, Ilyan, who wept at the destruction created by her brothers across the realm she had created with love - one to call home. She created the first Faery, meant to bring forth a sense of honor and order into the world she loved, the one quickly twisting before her.
Ilyan watched with delight as her creatures, the very ones she loved, roamed the realm. A surprise greeted her as she learned of their powers, as they did at the same time. For each Fae she created, they held a special power within them. Thus, the seasons were born with them. Spring brought forth birth and fertility into the world, Summer brought passion and love throughout the realm, breathing in life again. Winter brought famine and death, frost and ice onto the grass.
Then...There was autumn, bringing forth the decay of the elements - of the foliage, bringing forth a weakening into the world. But also - balance. Between all things, Autumn could weigh in either side. Life, death - dark, light. Autumn was a period of being unsure, as they typically could go either way.
Ilyan watched as her children grew throughout the realm, watched as they fought, made peace, and fought again. The Elders were finally whole again - having neighbors and friends, living side by side with the Fae, becoming people of worship, advisors and fathers, Kings and then priests and priestesses. Centuries past and peace regained the land, families laughed in the streets, nymphs lounged in tree's and danced in the streams.
That was, until, the Fae had began to grow restless. Tired of hiding away in their realm - within Athemoth. They began demanding more of the Elders, asking for more power - power they couldn't have. They began to burn their castles, create their own magic, their own lands, Aelis was born - and used to try to destroy the Elders. Pin each other against one another - raising courts for their own and dividing amongst themselves. Families fought one another, killed one another. Women were taken and their children were slaughtered. Heartbroken by the deceit of their own creations, one by one, they began to disappear. Ilyan stayed as long as she could, not wanting to take her daughter away with her. Her daughter had grown to love Athemoth - and a Fae that would have to stay there.
After another century past and Ilyan forced her newly pregnant daughter away with her into hiding, vowing to come back only when her Children were ready for her.
Until she learned first hand what grief could feel like - what searing, deepening, all-encompassing grief could do.