I am the Highfather.
For one year, I give my entire devotion to a new god. As of yet, I have not repeated a service. As of yet, I haven’t been given a choice. I leave these journals behind, so that after, people can gain insight into the gods that rule the heavens.In that year, I am their highest-ranking cleric. More than that, I become their avatar.
I am not always myself. Sometimes, I forget who I was before I was chosen.
Time, or Fate, will decide who remains when my tenure ends.
Assuming I remain at all.
I fear this year may tear me apart…
I serve Wislii
I am the Highfather. I serve at the pleasure of Wislii, the guardian of the sea. He is timeless, tending coral beds from infancy to cover the mountains and valleys beneath the surface. He maintains the delicate balance that keeps the temperatures of the sea fluctuating but always stable. In a rare moment of service, I can see the delicate balance of life and am in awe. The variety of life that flourishes in the ocean dwarfs those on land by leagues, yet they are in a more precarious state. Even a minute fluctuation can unravel not just the local ecosystem, but the entirety of it. If algae is murdered in negligence, the mighty whales will pay the price. When the balance is disturbed, the Maelstrom slows its eternal spin. Wislii cares little for worship. The guppy or the kraken, respect him and the laws of the ocean he sets for balance. He is often known by the Ceaseless God, for he is always on the move, as if making up for lost time.
They were warned. The coastal city of Dalos, on the island of Inoy. A prosperous city, known for it jewelry, and in particular jade. The humans there discovered a rich deposit of jade underneath the coral reef that grew on the shelf nearby. At first they were content to harvest the jade from the stone on the surface, doing little damage save from forcing crustaceans to seek shelter elsewhere. Then they found the veins reached deeper. Instead of digging they used magic and explosives to rip open the coral reef. The rupture of the coral reached Wislii.
Wislii came to assess and to prune. Already he saw the signs of sickness in fish and seaweed—sickness that would not remain local. Polluted waters confused predators; prey multiplied, feeding on contamination; rot entered the chain. All of it for jade. For want of stone, they had disturbed the root.
Wislii cares little for worship, though he has his penitents. I myself appeared on the docks, near the fishing lines and—ironically—the offices of the mining company. The fishermen knew me, or more accurately, knew who I represented. When they pulled in empty nets, they understood. I left fishermen staring at the sea and miners suddenly uncertain. Then I returned to the water. I could still feel the fracture in the reef, but no other life remained for miles. The correction had begun. I fear the warning may have fallen on deaf ears.
I serve Iilsiw
I am the Highfather. My mind spins. Colors sharpen, bleed into one another, grow too vivid as I adjust to serving Iilsiw. She’s amused. Her laughter dances on my soul. I am not like the priests who beg for boons or survival.
She is angry. The ocean was hers. It yielded. It shimmered. It welcomed her.
And now it will not release her.
The Titan tricked her. The sea tricked her. She only wanted to touch it.
The Titan. The word tastes wrong. The ocean spins as she turns her gaze—my gaze—toward the Maelstrom.
In the distance, the Maelstrom swirls. It is natural and abomination all at once. It beckons her. I can feel it calling to me as well. She’s on the other side of the world in a heartbeat. A dozen ships vanish in the swell behind her.
The Maelstrom whispers. The dread feels ordinary. What sailor would not fear a whirlpool miles across? Beneath it, something else stirs. That is not ordinary.
I can’t sense Wislii.
Iisliw pauses. A reef is shattered. The once clear water is muddy and filthy. I can taste the wrongness in the water. I can also feel the air crackle. Iisliw is not pleased. Who would’ve guessed that the colors of coral soothe the fickle fey.
I stand on the docks, the sky already dark and stormy. The waves are a reflection of Iisliw’s annoyance. She’s trying to decide. Storm, the lobstermen, sea elves. Only the priests see me, and they immediately drop to their knees.
The Maelstrom churns.
The mortals have marred the ocean. Again.
The docks are familiar.
Iisliw’s hums. The tide answers.
We awaken.
I cannot move. What is this? Serenity and frenzy are gone.
Already the balance has been disturbed.
Head’s spinning, images of Dalos flit in and out of my mind.
A canker has been located.
I see Dalos built. Growing. Expanding. I can see the blight they caused. Are causing still. I can see the sea suffering.
The infection must be neutralized.
I cannot move. The ocean rises and takes shape. Dalos is beneath me. Small. Dangerous.
The island is stable. Only the rot at its base.
I watch as waves tower over the city. Tower over everything. The waves descend. Inevitable. Irresistible. The earth roars in protest. The elements do not compete here. One yields. The entire island shakes as the peninsula breaks.
We push the rot down to the ocean floor. Sustenance for carrion. The cycle continues.
The Maelstrom resumes its spin.The ocean quiets.I am tired.
I serve Wislii-Iilsiw.
A Darkness Rising 