Long long ago, two humans were born.
One was a man in the south, Rayzaek, skin a golden-brown, eyes the colour of chocolate.
One was a woman in the north, Isiliah, an albino and like a sliver of life.
But they both had great powers, and, drawn to each other by visions, they found each other and realized at that moment that they were gods- the God of Sun and the Goddess of Moon.
And so they traveled across the broken land, uniting people under one religion- that of the Sun and Moon. They made people believe with their great powers- they could return a man from the brink of death, they could raise a house from the ground, they could cover the sky with clouds.
And they were in love for a time.
But this is how I know they were simply humans- the fell out of love. They cheated and broke faith in each other.
And Desamarai broke with them, the north to the Moon and the south to the Sun.
And they died apart, promising to return some day and bring with them the righteous.
But now, a thousand years later, they have not returned. The people's love for them has continued to shed blood after all this time and now, for just over fifty years, a shaky peace has been held.
But this peace is threatening to break. Dark portents stream from the mouths of soothsayers, prophecies well up from dark pools.
It seems that the quiet is only in the face of a coming storm.