The creation myth for the universe previously mentioned in Jadda Tabha.
When the world began, it knew no law. It knew only the rule of the strongest beings, tyrants locked in constant battles, paying no heed to the weaker ones who got in their way. Nothing was stable, mountains rose and fell, the sea thrashed into a froth, scores of battling giants laid waste to anything and everything.
And then, from the sky, a new being came. They were warm like the sun and patient like the moon, and they saw the world around them as clearly as a summer sky. What they saw, the senselessness of the violence, the deprivation of the weak, it angered them as nothing else could. The anger turned their warmth to flames and their patience to obsession.
With blazing eyes and one thought in mind, they hunted down the tyrants with a fury the world had not seen. They were unstoppable, fire and ice in the same form, leagues greater than the creatures they stalked. In their anger, they became indiscriminate, ripping deep wounds into the earth that were worse than anything the tyrants could inflict. Those that managed to escape their rampage hid; in the depths of the sea, in the dust of the desert, in whispers of the wind, the only refuge was out of sight.
And so, they found themselves alone. Alone in a place that was more desolate, more empty than it had been when they arrived. With no target in sight, their driving purpose slipped from their eyes, and they saw what they had done. They fell to their knees, and then they fell further, splitting in two.
Jadil, the fiery retribution, but also the warmth, the sight, the watchful protector, she saw the injustice of what she had been a part of, and she wept.
Rhet, the cool patience, the shade from scrutiny, but also the hunter, he saw the wastage he had been a part of, and he howled.
They sought to distance themselves from what they had done and took to the skies. Jadil, burning brightly, warmed the ground she had so recently scorched and Rhet, shining silver, cast shadows over what he had torn asunder.
The world stayed like that for an age, a constant day sweeping across the broken ground. But Rhet was not content. Jadil burned far too bright for his liking, sharing a sky with her rendered his silvery light invisible. He devised a plan to have the sky all to himself; he would challenge Jadil to a race from one horizon to another, and deliberately travel slowly so she would win and leave him alone in the sky.
It worked as he anticipated, leaving him hanging in a darkened sky. He looked down, examining the rich dark shadows he created, and finding them to his liking. He meandered across the sky, taking his time and watching how the shadows changed as he moved.
But Jadil was no fool. Very quickly, she realised what deceit had occurred, and took to the sky once more. Angry and having his view ruined, Rhet demanded that she leave the sky to him. Jadil argued that her light was more useful than his because it carried warmth, and further demanded that he leave the sky to her.
The argument raged, their raised voices spurring the winds into a gale that picked up boulders and rearranged the landscape. No sooner did they notice this than they stopped, remembering what their fury had done not so long ago. Rather than fight, they resolved to split the sky, with Jadil making one passage from the East to the West, and Rhet following.
Day followed night and night followed day, and the world as we know it began to take form.
