How Tetesh Made the World
May. 10th, 2025 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
citrakayah
About a month or so ago, the Wanderer's Library--a collaborative writing site I'm a member of--created a sword and sorcery setting revolving around a caravan that travels the desert and the four species that live in the desert. Then we made some fiction for it, which is all collected (along with the setting information) here. My contribution, in addition to a very short in-setting herbal, was this myth. It's on the website here but I thought I'd post it here as well.
For reference, the yaka are a species of hexapodal foxlike beings. In the modern day, they're silver, though in this myth they aren't--yet.
In the beginning, there was only the sand and Tetesh, father and mother to the yaka. The air was still heavy, muffling sound and scent. The days were dark. And as Tetesh wandered over the endless dunes, they felt lonesome. And so they cried their loneliness to the empty sky. "Is this all there is?" they wailed. "Will I be alone forever?" Time had little meaning in such an empty place, but Tetesh lamented for years and years until their throat was raw and their own ears rang. Finally it grew too much to bear, and Tetesh turned their pain inwards. In their madness Tetesh tore at themselves until they had ripped out their own eye. As their blood dripped onto the sands, they saw that their eye glowed with a bright sapphire light. "I'll see by this," Tetesh declared, and they flung it into the sky. There it hung and became Taá. With that day was created, and Tetesh could see that they stood at the shore of a vast ocean that had formed from their blood. "This is good," they said, "but it is empty." So they cast their fur into the sea, and from it came seaweed. From the seaweed came the fish, the morotoro, and all the other creatures of the sea. Tetesh watched them, enchanted, until the fog rose from the shore.
The fog dampened scent and smell and blinded Tetesh besides, so they did not like it. Noticing that their breath sent the fog scattering, they exhaled and sent their breath into the world. It became the wind, whistling around the world. But it only made the fog heavier and sent it rolling further inland. Tetesh began the journey inland, not knowing what they would find but wishing to avoid the fog.
After days of wandering it began to thin. The sounds of shifting dunes came clearly to their ears and they could scent hot sand. Finally, the fog grew thin enough for them to see. But the sands were still empty. Worse, without the fog Taá had lingered in the sky so long that the sands had turned too hot to walk on. Taá beat down on them pelt and soon they began to pant. Desperate for any relief, they ripped off their tail and flung it towards the sun. Tetesh's aim was true and their tail hit Taá, sending their eye below the horizon. Their tail became the Crimson Herald, which still drips a trail of blood across the heavens.
Now it was night, and the air grew cool. But monsters from other lands came with the night. They were to a yaka god as mortal predators are to a yaka, and for the first time in their life Tetesh felt fear. With nothing more to light the sky, it was impossible to see them. Tetesh scented them on the wind and heard them coming, and so they were always one step ahead of them. Yet when dawn came, the monsters vanished. Days passed, and Tetesh was hunted yet never caught sight of their foes. In a rage, Tetesh sunk their claws into their face again and plucked out their other eye, then hurled it into the sky as well. It became Shimreth, and their flecks of blood became the stars. There was light enough to see by even in the dark. But now they were blind. Only sound and scent would be their guide.
For reference, the yaka are a species of hexapodal foxlike beings. In the modern day, they're silver, though in this myth they aren't--yet.
In the beginning, there was only the sand and Tetesh, father and mother to the yaka. The air was still heavy, muffling sound and scent. The days were dark. And as Tetesh wandered over the endless dunes, they felt lonesome. And so they cried their loneliness to the empty sky. "Is this all there is?" they wailed. "Will I be alone forever?" Time had little meaning in such an empty place, but Tetesh lamented for years and years until their throat was raw and their own ears rang. Finally it grew too much to bear, and Tetesh turned their pain inwards. In their madness Tetesh tore at themselves until they had ripped out their own eye. As their blood dripped onto the sands, they saw that their eye glowed with a bright sapphire light. "I'll see by this," Tetesh declared, and they flung it into the sky. There it hung and became Taá. With that day was created, and Tetesh could see that they stood at the shore of a vast ocean that had formed from their blood. "This is good," they said, "but it is empty." So they cast their fur into the sea, and from it came seaweed. From the seaweed came the fish, the morotoro, and all the other creatures of the sea. Tetesh watched them, enchanted, until the fog rose from the shore.
The fog dampened scent and smell and blinded Tetesh besides, so they did not like it. Noticing that their breath sent the fog scattering, they exhaled and sent their breath into the world. It became the wind, whistling around the world. But it only made the fog heavier and sent it rolling further inland. Tetesh began the journey inland, not knowing what they would find but wishing to avoid the fog.
After days of wandering it began to thin. The sounds of shifting dunes came clearly to their ears and they could scent hot sand. Finally, the fog grew thin enough for them to see. But the sands were still empty. Worse, without the fog Taá had lingered in the sky so long that the sands had turned too hot to walk on. Taá beat down on them pelt and soon they began to pant. Desperate for any relief, they ripped off their tail and flung it towards the sun. Tetesh's aim was true and their tail hit Taá, sending their eye below the horizon. Their tail became the Crimson Herald, which still drips a trail of blood across the heavens.
Now it was night, and the air grew cool. But monsters from other lands came with the night. They were to a yaka god as mortal predators are to a yaka, and for the first time in their life Tetesh felt fear. With nothing more to light the sky, it was impossible to see them. Tetesh scented them on the wind and heard them coming, and so they were always one step ahead of them. Yet when dawn came, the monsters vanished. Days passed, and Tetesh was hunted yet never caught sight of their foes. In a rage, Tetesh sunk their claws into their face again and plucked out their other eye, then hurled it into the sky as well. It became Shimreth, and their flecks of blood became the stars. There was light enough to see by even in the dark. But now they were blind. Only sound and scent would be their guide.
The creation of Shimreth
For days more Tetesh wandered, yet there was nothing. Locked in their own mind, with no sight and only the sound of wind and scent of sand, they began to stink of madness. When they neared the sea the fish fled in fear and even monsters shied from their path. They were alone in the world. They knew not where they went or how far they had traveled, nor how long it had been. Finally Tetesh grew mad and rended their own flesh with their fangs. They shook their head hard and scattered it to the four directions. Where it landed it became soil, from which sprang plants and animals. Then they took their rib-bones in their jaws and snapped them off. With a great shake of their head, they scattered them across the land. Their right ribs flew to the east and became the karst-fields. Their left ribs flew to the west and became the mountain ridges.
Now Tetesh was broken and bleeding, a shell of themself. They gnashed their teeth and flailed in agony, clawing at the dunes. In their throes, their teeth snapped and were scattered across the land, becoming the sky islands. As their divine organs spilled onto the sands, Tetesh grew weak. Little of them was left. Yet they did not die. Instead they grew smaller and smaller. The aura of divinity faded from their body and it began to slough off them, like a cocoon melting from around a moth. From it sprang the mortal yaka, who lingered not and scattered across the desert. And when the last remnants of their body had fallen to their feet, Tetesh was born anew—reduced in form, yet still alive and whole again.
No longer a god, they began wandering the dunes to explore the world they had made. It's said they wander still.
Now Tetesh was broken and bleeding, a shell of themself. They gnashed their teeth and flailed in agony, clawing at the dunes. In their throes, their teeth snapped and were scattered across the land, becoming the sky islands. As their divine organs spilled onto the sands, Tetesh grew weak. Little of them was left. Yet they did not die. Instead they grew smaller and smaller. The aura of divinity faded from their body and it began to slough off them, like a cocoon melting from around a moth. From it sprang the mortal yaka, who lingered not and scattered across the desert. And when the last remnants of their body had fallen to their feet, Tetesh was born anew—reduced in form, yet still alive and whole again.
No longer a god, they began wandering the dunes to explore the world they had made. It's said they wander still.
