North of the Moon, and South of the Sun,
to the East of the Red Tide, and to the West of the Grey Mountains,
in the midst of the Silver Isle rest the ruins of the Mother.
The Mother is the Keeper of All Things,
She gives birth in the Spring,
Grows in Summer,
Prepares in Autumn,
Mourns in Winter.
The skies cry with her, the winds howl with her pain,
the sun shines in her joyous days, and the moon is illuminated in even her darkest nights.
The stars burn brighter, hotter and faster to see her face but for a moment, even as their wants consume them.
The mother is the giver of life, but one must not forget that she can also take it away.
Even those who build her shrines must remember not to bring about her wrath...