Cassia Meare

“AYA HAD TOLD OF the beginning of the world.
She had been as fire in the void, twisting, churning, wanting to form. Over time she had taken shape, and it had hurt. Nemours knew how much, but Mother described it also as a joy.
To become.
From particles burning and melding she had grown into a great dragon, rough-hewn by the collisions of time. Sharp eyes watching the darkness, fire now her breath.
The fire, raging alone, had made clouds, and the clouds made rain. The rain had fallen, sweet, and made a sea. The rain had turned salty with her tears and made more seas.
And from that fire and rain and the very dust of stars Father had formed.
Or so she liked to say.
She described Virso coming together, shaped already like a man. The most beautiful of creatures, with the coldness of the moon on his skin, asleep still in the ether. So enamored was she that she had retreated into her own body and remade herself in his likeness.
The dragon had hardened and cracked, and she had emerged from it with long limbs, awkward for a while, and reached for him. The body, empty, had fallen from her and into the sea.
Aya had taken Virso by the hand and breathed fire and life into him. Their passion had begun.
Beneath them, the gigantic dragon body in the water had petrified and become the world.
Or so she liked to tell. It had always been difficult to catch Mother out of a poetic mood. She was magic, and she liked illusion.”
― Cassia Meare, The Rage of Princes: A Portal Fantasy Adventure