This is a translation of the Origin of the world as found in Legends and Prophecies of FrostThorne

In the time when the world was young, before the first dawn had broken, there were four great beings who came together to shape the world. These beings were called Destiny, Fate, Luck, and Chance. They were powerful, each with a gift to offer, and they had tried many times to bring life to the stars. But always, their older sister, Inevitability, would come, wrapped in shadows, and undo what they had made. For she believed that everything born must one day return to the Cosmos.

But on this day, the four spirits journeyed far, to a quiet place in the sky where a lone star shone, yellow and new. There they whispered among themselves and vowed to protect what they would create, to keep it safe from their sister’s reach.

Destiny, the eldest, was the first to step forward. With a strong and steady hand, he molded the Elaran, beings of great power and wisdom. Destiny breathed into them a piece of his own spirit, giving them the strength to lead and the magic to shape the land. They were meant to be the guides of all who would follow, as Destiny himself guided his siblings. The Elaran walked tall upon the earth, their hearts full of purpose, and Destiny looked upon them with pride.

Then Fate, the next in line, came forward. He was not as strong as Destiny, but his power ran deep like the roots of the oldest trees. From his thoughts, he shaped the Andaran, beings who could touch the minds and hearts of others. Fate gave them the gift of understanding, and with it, the responsibility to watch over the world and all its creatures. The Andaran were not rulers like the Elaran, but they were wise protectors, and for a time, they lived in peace, building their world together.

Next, it was Luck’s turn. She was smaller than her brothers, her power quieter, like the wind that whispers through the leaves. From her touch, humans were born. They were not as strong or as wise as the Elaran or the Andaran, and they had no magic of their own. But their spirits burned bright, and they were filled with a fierce will to live. Luck smiled upon them and gave them a gift of her own—resilience, the strength to keep going no matter what. She knew they would survive, even in the hardest times.

Lastly, Chance, the youngest sister, stepped forward. She was delicate, her power light as a feather on the breeze. She looked at what her siblings had made and felt small, for their creations were grand. But then, she saw a way to bring her own gift to the world. She scattered her power like seeds across the land, and from where it fell, life began to grow. Trees, flowers, animals of all kinds sprang forth, filling the world with colour and song. But Chance’s power did not stop there. It mingled with the gifts of her brothers, and from this meeting, new beings were born — the Fay. They were creatures of the in-between, part of Destiny, Fate, and Luck, but also touched by Chance’s magic. Some could change their shapes, others could wield magic like the Elaran, and still others commanded the elements. They were a blend of all the creators’ gifts, yet they were also something new, something unexpected.

The four creators looked down at their world, their hearts swelling with joy, for it was beautiful beyond their dreams. But then Inevitability came, her presence like a storm cloud darkening the sky. She saw what her siblings had made and laughed, a sound like the crack of thunder. With a wave of her hand, she sent shadows to creep across the land, whispering dark thoughts to those who would listen.

“All things must end,” Inevitability said, her voice cold as winter’s breath.

“Not this time, sister,” Destiny answered, his voice firm as the mountain stone. “This time, we will stand strong.”

“We shall see,” Inevitability replied, her eyes gleaming like ice.

“Maybe we should stay a while,” Chance suggested softly, her voice like the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“That is a good thought,” Fate agreed, and with a motion of his hand, all five siblings found themselves standing upon the earth they had shaped.

“We will remain until the story is told,” Fate declared, his voice carrying on the wind. “And may the best creations endure.”

And so, the five creators stayed, walking among the beings they had brought to life, knowing that the future of the world hung in the balance. In the world they had made, where magic and spirit danced together, the tale of their creation was told and retold, a story to be remembered as long as the stars shone above.