The moon hung in the night sky like an opalesque portrait, a nocturnal sentinel doomed to float aimlessly through the murky firmament that night and every night to follow. Ever since he was a child, Adamu had loved to climb, and this night was no exception. High above the world he sat perched on a branch overlooking the forest. The dim light of the moon bathed the treetops in a silvery glow, the needles of the branches swaying in a silent dance as a light breeze filtered through. In one tree Adamu noticed a pair of nocturnal eyes opening and closing slowly like those of a willing lover. For a moment the two locked eyes and Adamu couldn't help but feel a queer commonality between them. I too once knew love, he thought. I once too knew certainty. Gradually the owl became uninterested and directed his gaze down to the undergrowth below the forest, seeking a prey. For a while the bird balanced on the branch, its head mechanically rotating from left to right as it scanned through the darkness below. Before long it broke the silence with a loud flap as it dipped below the branches, likely pursuing whatever hapless creature it had spotted from high above. As the clamour died out in the distance, Adamu turned again to his own thoughts, a smirk forming on his face. Animals know nothing of love. Killing, eating, fucking, sleeping – an eternal repetition. Adamu looked up and again fixed his gaze on the silent moon high above. Slowly he let himself drift away in the rays of moonlight, his thoughts a vessel to a place where nothing matters. He would repeat this quiet ritual every night as the sun slowly buckled under the weight of the encroaching twilight, only to be vanquished by the dark.
The Sun, he thought. To the common man and scholars alike the sun’s existence was a given. A wondrous Being who is reborn every morning in a crib of crimson and gold to cast light on dark and illuminate the daily activities of the world. Without the sun, all secrets would remain forever buried, all cogwheels would cease to turn and every being, strong or weak, great or small, would perish. It is no wonder that a land known as Careh exchanged deity after deity, only to ultimately return to their first love - the eternal torch of the skies, the father of all things. Yet, the Sun is not the sole bearer of this title. There is another primordial father and he is perhaps even greater and more fundamental than the first. A thousand years ago during a time now referred to by learned men as the Adoption, the inhabitants of Careh spurned all the gods they had previously worshiped in favour of the Sun. Before this great event, Carehites worshiped a myriad of gods - too many to count. Some worshiped household gods of fertility, others constructed idols of an Unnamed Hunter to ensure great bounty, while many more bathed their children in a river known as the Rill, hoping that the river god would bless their children with long and prosperous lives. Disparity was rife and it was during this time that that a new voice rose from the choir of confusion and doubt.