Lynna's trip to the temple reflected the diverse beliefs of her people. As the cart rattled along, memories of her grandmother's tales filled her mind—stories of gods, great and small, and the intricate web of their influence.
In this world, the pantheon was always changing, influenced by time and people's beliefs, far from a simple hierarchy. Major and Minor gods resided in this celestial realm. But their power and the strength of their miracles depended of the fervor of their devotees. A minor god, given enough belief and tales of grandeur, could rise to become major, while a once mighty god could fade into the annals of history, should their followers wane.
Each deity had specific domains. Steia, revered in rural areas, was associated with the scent of fresh fields and crops. She was the goddess of health, ensuring the well-being of both the people and their livestock. Food, the sustenance of life, was also under her auspices. In urban centers, however, prayers shifted to Tenor, the god of progress and craftsmanship. There, in the shadows of tall buildings and the bustle of crowded markets, other gods took precedence too—a myriad of minor gods and concepts.
Yet, the lines were not always so clear. Over centuries, as cities grew from villages and towns emerged at crossroads, the domains of the gods blurred. Some gods were reborn, their realms reshaped as concepts merged or circumstances changed. An urban god of commerce might also find reverence in rural trade fairs, just as Steia's blessing could be sought in city hospitals.
But what truly fascinated Lynna, even as a child, was the ever-changing dynamics of these gods. A god's influence wasn't static. It waxed and waned, molded by historical events and the stories passed down through generations. A single divine act, like saving a city from a devastating plague or bringing forth a bountiful harvest after years of famine, could propel a god into unparalleled prominence. Conversely, disasters or calamities attributed to a deity could lead to the creation of shady cults.
Lynna mused to herself, "No wonder Skolgard, our allied nation up north, is so religious. They're all about worshiping Ardurin, Skolgard's protector. Guess having one powerful god watching over you makes everyone a fervent zealot."
In the end, the mechanisms behind this enigmatic dance of power and belief remained a mystery, even to the most devoted priests and scholars. No one truly knew the mechanisms that powered the gods or their intricate relationships. The uncertainty added layers of intrigue, spawning countless rumors, tales, prophecies, and theories.
With her mind wandering the wonders of the Pantheon, she jokingly asked the neighboring scythe its opinion. "Only logic applies to magic, Alar can't be real, surely you can't disagree with me..." "I mean you're a scythe, as a simple steel farming tool, you can't talk so you can't disagree..."
As the cart halted at the temple entrance, Lynna's gaze rested on the grand statue of Steia. The goddess stood tall, a sheaf of wheat in one hand, a healing staff in the other. Here, in the heart of her village, she was a testament to the intertwining of beliefs and daily life. Steia's influence, Lynna realized, was far more pervasive than she'd ever understood, touching every aspect of their lives, from the crops in the field to the food on their table, to her visit here in search of divine healing.