In the beginning, there was the Void. From that Void came the Sisters. The Sisters floated in the empty and shapeless Void and became bored. This made them sad, and they were not pleased with this feeling. “What shall we do, dear sister?” The eldest Sister, Cyrene, asked.
“We shall make it beautiful.” The younger Sister, Mischa, intoned and formed the Earth. The Earth was small and dark and the Sisters were not pleased.
“It’s lonely.” Mischa said, and carefully placed the planets around it, and then flung stars into the void making the universe sparkle.
“And cold.” Cyrene formed a ball of fire and hung it in the sky. She called it the sun, and she was pleased. “Now what shall we do, dear sister?”
“We shall give ourselves form, and wander our creation.” Said the second sister, and it was so. Mischa clothed herself in a darkness. Her eyes were living pools of fire, and her hair black as the Void. She smiled, feeling the fire in her veins and was pleased.
Cyrene wrapped herself in the ice and snow that topped her mountains, her hair was a glacier flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Her icy blue eyes studied her slender form, and she was pleased. She spun in circles under the sun as it kissed her skin and laughed. The sound of her laughter was a great avalanche from the highest mountains.
For many years, the sisters wandered their planet. They made the world green and alive, painting clouds into the sky and their breath was the wind swaying in the trees. Cyrene filled the air with every kind of bird and flying creature they could imagine. She taught the birds to fly, and when to hide from the harsh winds of winter. Mischa filled the oceans and made the creatures of the deep. She covered them with glistening skin, and shining scales and taught them to swim. Soon the Earth was teeming with every creature.
It was not long before the creatures became hungry and pleaded with their Creators to feed them. The Sisters heard the plea and were moved. Cyrene created vast fields of grasses and grains, she showed the animals what was good and pure to eat, and what would not hurt them. Mischa sharpened the teeth of some of the animals and taught them to hunt, and coloring their pelts to match the snow or sand. She made them stealthy, quiet and deadly.
For many, many years they roamed their planet, tending the creatures and teaching them the way to live. Mischa ran with the darkness and loved her predators of the night. Cyrene stayed in the sun, her frosty skin kissed by its warmth. She shaped the snow-capped mountains and frozen waters in the farthest north.
“Sister,” Mischa asked one day, as they flew above their creation. “We can not tend to all of this, or we will never be able to enjoy it.”
“Dear Sister, I know, but what shall we do?”
“We shall create people, in our own image, to take care of our creation.” Mischa gathered a lock of her hair and clipped it from her head, and carefully separated it into two piles and wove two tiny dolls. She took a deep breath and filled the dolls with the fire from her heart and they lived, male and female she created them, and found them to be beautiful. They were tiny sparks of her soul, and she loved them.
Cyrene made her people of snow and ice, She made them in her image, with glacial hair and the same frozen pools for their eyes. She held them close and breathed her frosty breath into them and they lived. They adored her, and she was pleased. “We shall fill the world with our beautiful children.”
They agreed and conceived. For eons they carefully stitched the people in their wombs, filling them with their essences, and perfecting everything about them. They cleared great swathes of land for their children to be born, and to start their new lives.
Eventually, the waters of their womb broke, forming great rivers across the land. Their labor pains tore through the Earth, breaking apart the island they’d so carefully created and sending it crashing into the ocean, each chunk of land swimming far from the pain of their creators. They clawed the earth in time with their contractions, creating great mountains and valleys. Their hot, liquid screams pouring into the Earth with volcanic fury.
For the first time, the Sisters knew pain, and they writhed against it. The sun burned their skin and they hid in the caves until night fell and the second sister placed the Moon. It was a soft light against the darkness. Keeping away the terror of the Void. The silvery light calmed the Sisters, and they watched the stars flicker softly as they pushed their beloved children into existence. They smiled and they were pleased with their creation.
Finally, exhausted from creation and the birthing fell into a deep slumber, leaving their children alone to wander and create. The Sisters faded from memory to myth and the children created their own morals and stories in their absence.