ORIGINS
The Early Days- commonly referred to by Bysmalbats as the old world, one that was now destroyed and vandalised, bound to history. The first era lasted for around a thousand years.
Back when their world was still young, their days of peace were spent idly. Shambala’ha- or more specifically, pre-Shambala’ha- was still filled with Wonder left by the「All-Mother」, the surplus that remained after the creation of the Bysmalinthes. This was maintained by the presence of「Bhahan-zanoth」, who fed the land with Wonder of his own.
This allowed the Bysmalinthes of old to live extraordinarily longer lives than those born after the departure of「Bhahan-zanoth」, and after the Second Era, despite Allegories not coming into existence yet.
Or perhaps, if you look at it from a more poetic standpoint, their first Allegory was precisely the creation of their kind.
This could explain why the first Era (generation) Bysmalbats had a much closer relationship to the「All-Mother」compared to other Eras. The very Wonder that sings within them contains the thought of her in its purest form.
PATRON GOD'S DEPARTURE
After the untimely departure of「Bhahan-zanoth」, the five Great Witches governed the Bysmalinthes, and maintained the White Wheel Temples in his stead.
They had believed it to be a temporary measure until their Eternal Brother returned, but as neither hide nor hair of him turned up after a few hundred years, they began to feel restless. They had been prepared for a day such as this to arrive, and「Bhahan-zanoth」himself had warned them that he could not be present forever. But to have it come so soon… they were more than slightly unprepared.
Nonetheless, they looked after their kin to the best of their abilities, and clung fervently to the hope of their Patron God’s return.
It went without a doubt that their Patron God strongly believed in rebirth. That after the mould of the original individual was cast away into the void, their new pure form would be lifted from mortality, and would spend the rest of time in the「All-Mother」’s embrace as a part of her. This was where all Bysmalinthes went after their passing. It was their fate.
Who would even begin to think that a Great Witch would question this, and shun this thinking? Not one even, but two of them.
While the Witch of Deep Waters accepted that there was no place for stillness in the world, who was to say that it was impossible for time to ebb in other ways?
In her conceitedness, she believed she could bend the meaning of “rebirth”- it was not new life, but instead life that could cycle eternally between reversal to the beginning, and then forward once more to the end.
She had not realised that the very ideology she preached was in tandem with locking their lands into a never-ending, everlasting non-future.
And on the other hand, what did the other Great Witch believe?
The Witch of Decay (as she was known at that time), was someone that loved to dominate over others. Nay- she demanded it.
In her heart she saw this set of ideals as nothing short of promising, an opportunity. Should the Witch of the Deep’s objective come into fruition, and their world truly sealed into a loop of endless festering (decay), it would be to her advantage. She would be able to command power over others with the presence and absence of agony. In a world full of rot, she would bloom the most beautifully.
It was around this time that Wonder gradually started to fade from the land. It had been too long since「Bhahan-zanoth」had left, and what was left was quickly being used up to maintain the longevity of the current living Bysmalinthes. With this in mind, the proposal of the Wayward Witches seemed extremely enticing… as well as extremely treacherous.
In one ear, they were being coerced with the promise of a sustained existence.
They no longer needed to work hard, or scramble over each other to survive. It would be like the Early Days once more- the Witch of the Deep knew few could resist the connotations of this statement.
In the other, however, was the vice-like grip of the Witch of Decay.
“Where will you go?” she would question, despite knowing the answer. “Where will you go when there is nothing left of your bodies to have?” Then they would have no choice- they would have to listen.
This made it exceedingly difficult for the three remaining Great Witches (the Faithful) to preserve their dwindling numbers. Just like mortals, the Bysmalinthes were not immune to feelings of greed. When lost, what drove the heart forward was hope, no matter how meagre it was.
The Wayward Witches were able to appeal to their kin with the prospect of there being a way (a false hope), while the Faithful Witches could not bring themselves to promise them anything. It would be too cruel to keep them anticipating that their Patron God would come back, when there had not been hide nor hair of him seen for centuries.
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As such, the allegiances of the Bysmalinthes were cleaved into two.Their world was named “Shambala’ha”, and the land was divided into regions, further driving the distinction between the two circles. While the Faithful Witches had Yh’till, the Northlands and the Echoing Hollows, the Wayward Witches had Manam’un, Scharan’din and the Southlands (as they were previously called).
Those that were found on the wrong side of the border would be detained, brought to the nearest base, before being interrogated.
It was also during this time where espionage ran rampant. In order to combat this, both sides began to put in countermeasures to root out these moles, and prevent them from freely coming in and out. On the side of the Faithful was the Witch of Moonlit Nights and his Shade Guard, while on the side of the Wayward was the Witch of Decay and her Children of Rot.
With both individuals being equally ruthless in their attitude towards spies and their procedures dealing with them, this led to further bloodshed between the two factions.
While the Witch of Decay would leave the corpses of traitors out in the marshes to rot forever, the Witch of the Night would encase them in snow and ice, forcing them to stay in one position until they breathed their last breath. If they wished for eternity, he would give them eternity.
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Their war finally came to a climax when the Wayward Witches launched an attack on the Faithful.It was inevitable for the Witch of Deep Waters to tire from having her plans constantly adjourned, and the Witch of Decay to grow testy from having her ultimate dominion just out of hands’ reach time and time again.
And so, it was decided that something truly nefarious would have to happen, for the tides to finally turn in their favour.
Furious, the Witch of Moonless Nights had gathered the Shade Guard and rallied their forces, before relentlessly attempting to drive the Wayward Bysmalinthes out of Faithful territory. The Wayward Witches returned their attacks in equal fervour.
They had fought tooth and nail against each either, neither side backing down. And it appeared that their confrontation had been so rowdy, that even those from beyond the veil could no longer ignore the call- their cry to set the balance straight.
It was as if the sky had split in two, cleaved in half by a huge, sickled knife. At that moment, dawn had not yet broken, and the sky was still dyed a soothing purple. But now, its indigo curtains were being drawn back to reveal the eye piercing light beneath.
Within was a colour that will forever be indescribable. Blankness, contentment, dissatisfaction, completeness- eternity.
And the Bysmalinthes on the field would never forget the feeling that washed over them as they watched the gates of the orderly beyond open before their very eyes. It was not terror, neither was it fear of the unknown. It was a deep unsettling despair, one that seeped into your bones, and sunk into your heart like stones in water. One that overwhelmed you until you had no choice but to accept that there was no possibility in fighting it.
As the crevice in the sky widened further, what entered through it was quite disconcerting indeed. Round, spherical objects, seemingly made of a jelly like substance, covered in round cilia.
These were the Gods of Order, from the「Mirror World」.
They opened their singular eyes, peering downwards at the creatures below them.
Those that made eye contact had their eyes seared blind, for such filthy, low creatures were never meant to lay their eyes on such perfection. Then, their bodies would slowly turn to sea foam.
In their minds, such dirty creatures were unacceptable, and such rotten terrain should be thoroughly razed to its very bedrock. It was disgusting, disgusting, disgusting! And it had to be purged from their sight.
Watching their brothers and sisters gradually being vapourized- scorched to nothingness by the Order of the uncompromising gods, they were filled with a new type of horror, one that even years of warmongering could not compare to.
As such, they frantically fled to find cover, to hide themselves from the all-knowing eyes of the ill-intentioned Gods.
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To keep sanctuary, the Bysmalinthes decided on an indefinite truce on their dispute. They built tunnels that travelled deep into the cores of the earth, creating a winding network in hopes that the Gods of Order would not be able to flush them out.But in this state, they were like sitting ducks. To go upwards was to be turned into foam, to go any further downwards was to be cooked to a crisp.
With even the remaining Great Witches at a loss, they were at their wit’s end, and began to lose hope.
Was this it? Was this truly the end? Had they truly been abandoned by「Bhahan-zanoth」? Perhaps their Great Mother had not deemed them worthy enough of her time, and had decided to cut her ties with them?
Among the pleas and wails to the gods for clemency, only one heeded their call.
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