Prologue


In the beginning of the world, there were four gods: Sol, Stella, Luna, and Terra.  Sol created the sun, to cast light for all things.  Stella created stars for things to wish and dream upon.  Luna created the moon, so these things would know that they were not the only ones out there.  And Terra created the world and filled it with plants and animals that could enjoy the things that her brother and sisters had made.
    Fate was the mother of these four gods, and she had a locket.  This locket was far different than any other that has ever existed.  There were gears and tiny metal parts inside it.  To wind it up, they would spin a dial on the back, open up the lid, and a beautiful tune would come from it.  All of the girls were very pleased with it, but Sol wasn’t so much; he said it gave him a headache.
    And so things went for a time; Sol continued to make the sun burn bright and hot, Stella kept the stars twinkling and winking at anyone who chose to look at them, Luna moved the moon around the world, and Terra lovingly nursed her creation.  
    But soon they were no longer satisfied.  Stella noted that none of the animals watched her stars and dreamed on them.  Sol said that none but the plants fully appreciated the warmth and light cast by the sun.  Luna said nothing, but the others could tell: no one was struck by wonder at the lovely orb in the sky.  Terra alone was still happy— her world was coming along nicely; she didn’t see anything wrong with it.
    To quell her children’s anxious inquiries as to whether their brainchild was good enough or not, Fate proposed that Terra create a sentient species, something that could appreciate all the hard work they had put into this world.  Sol, Stella, and Luna were appeased; Terra was slightly worried, but she hid it well and looked around for something to make a thing out of.
    She finally settled for air; the things had to breathe air, so why not make them out of it?  She shaped it into her own form and made it solid.  But she wanted it to still be able to enjoy the air it was made of; otherwise, it could hurt itself.  So she planted a feather of a hawk into its soul.
    The creature woke up on a plateau surrounded by short scrub and sky.  At first, she was afraid, and didn’t know how she had come to be there, what she was.  But then, she spotted the stars up above her, and the full moon that Luna had moved so she would see.  She was captivated and sat looking at them until dawn began to break and Sol raised the sun in the sky.
    During the day, the creature learned how to get food; she found what plants she could eat and what ones she couldn’t.  Terra guided her lovingly on her way, rejoicing in her slightest discovery, misadventure or not.  
    The creature saw birds up in the sky, and she wished she could join them there.  That night, she lay on her back, counted stars and wished on every one of them that she could be weightless like the birds.  Stella was pleased, and gave her the confidence to try to fly the next morning.  Luna watched it all, silent but happy, as the creature saw faces on the moon and laughed.
    Sol alone was not happy.  The creature was enraptured by the stars, held the moon in wonder, and loved the world that she lived on.  But she never, not once, acknowledged that the sun might be the whole reason she was alive.  At first, he kept his peace; after all, she might come to her senses sooner or later.
    The creature learned to fly; she found that she could change her shape and soar with the birds, as a swallow, an eagle, an owl, and it didn’t matter.  Terra finally named her creation, and called her a changeling.  She was blissfully happy and completely unaware of her brother’s growing anger.
    Stella didn’t notice, either.  She was quite content with the changeling and her love of the stars.  When the changeling started naming clusters of stars and coming up with stories for them, Stella was wildly excited.  She didn’t rest until she’d made the rest of them memorize the stories too.
    Fate was simply happy that everything seemed to be going smoothly; the changeling was entertaining, as she bumbled around, learning her place in the world, and seeing Terra so proud and protective of her reminded her of when she had been teaching her children.  It was a wonderful thing, to see her so happy.
    Luna, who silently watched everything that went on, was not oblivious to Sol’s anger as the rest of them were.  She kept a careful eye on him, and resolved that if he should ever try to harm the changeling, she would tell Terra straight off— Sol wouldn’t be able to get past her.
    But Sol had a clever plan, and it was only by pure happenstance that Luna caught wind of it in time to tell her sister.  Terra was in place as Sol sent a wave of fire at her world.  She hurriedly sent the changeling and all of her other creations out of danger’s path; the fire scorched the landscape, leaving it barren, dry, and hot.  Sol tried again, and again; each time, Terra moved her precious burden and Sol left another mark on the crust.
    Stella was anxious and terrified, but she didn’t know what to do; confrontation was not one of her strong points.  Luna went and fetched Fate.
    Fate hurried to the scene and stopped Sol from burning a rainforest to the ground.  She shouted at her son, told him to see sense.
    Enraged, Sol’s outstretched fingers as he tried to burn Terra down caught onto his mother’s locket.  The clasp broke, and the locket fell into his hand.
    Without even realizing what he was doing, Sol threw the locket, not catching on that this was not fire.  Terra tried to catch it, but it flew past her and toward the ground.
    The changeling saw it, and she flew after it, streamlining her body in an attempt to catch this thing that was causing her caretaker so much panic.  Ordinary birds scattered out of her way; the locket whistled through her talons.
    It slammed into the ground with such force that it broke.  The gears were bent, mangled, and pieces of metal littered the ground where it had hit.  The locket itself was dented, and the hinge was twisted.
    Fate was infuriated.  Instead of turning on her son, who had caused the problem, she turned her anger to Terra’s little creation, the changeling.
    The changeling landed and reverted to her original form, walking shakily over to the smashed locket.  She knelt and reached out with her fingers, trying to cup the locket in her hand.
    It burned her.  Bewildered and in pain, the changeling pulled her hand back and looked up at the sky; clouds were racing across it and a wild wind was blowing across the ground, whirling leaves into her face and tangling her hair.
    Fate felt tears in her eyes.  Furious, she began gathering mud from riverbanks and forming them into the shapes of her daughters, her son, and herself, altering them to make them ever so slightly different.  Terra tried to stop her; Luna held her back.  Sol watched them with fire in his eyes, and Stella hopped nervously behind them.  
    Fate poured into the mud-people all of her hatred for the little changeling; but then she realized that Terra would still have hold over them, so she took some fire from Sol and put it into their soul.  They would hate the changeling; they would hate the freeness of her soul, the guise of the birds she could take at will.  They would want to destroy her and take Fate’s revenge on the changeling.
    Terra was frightened, and she rushed up to her mother, trying to stop her; Sol got in the way, but Luna was right behind Terra, backing her sister up.  Stella, terrified, hovered in the background, horror written on her every feature as her family prepared to do verbal battle.
    Fate and Terra began shouting at each other.  Sol tried to join in, but Luna barred his way, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed.
    The changeling was worried and scared.  She flew over to the place where the people made of mud and the mud and flame creatures were.  They were all stumbling around, talking in bewildered voices as to where they were and what they were doing there.  The changeling crept through the trees and crouched in the bushes to watch, her arms wrapped around her knees and her eyes wide.
    Terra was furious; Fate screamed at her that the changeling wouldn’t live to see the dawn.  Sol shrieked that he would help; Luna yelled that she wouldn’t let him.  Everyone was so shocked that Luna had actually spoken that they stopped arguing for a moment, and it was enough.
    There was a break in the storm, and one of the mud people spotted the changeling, who had stood up to get a look at the howling tempest.  
    Fate was wrong; the changeling didn’t die before the dawn broke.  Terra and Luna worked together to keep her alive.  Even so, two years later, the changeling was killed by one of the fire-mud people.  But not before she had had a child with one of the ordinary mud people.  The new, young changeling learned from the birds that it wasn’t safe for him to fly during the day; it wasn’t safe to let Sol know that he was a changeling; that Terra’s favorite creation had handed down her power to her son.  So he could only be free at night, with Luna looking over him from the heavens.  He kept his secret well; his wife never told, understanding the burden their child would carry but suitably proud.  Stella was too frightened to pass the news to Sol and Fate; she grew distant.
    The changeling line was passed through the ages; there were very few of them that actually had the power, and Fate and Sol were forever conspiring against them.  Terra and Luna tried their best, but three thousand years before our story starts, the last known changeling, a young woman named Riva, was murdered by a man with fire in his soul.  And the line just seemed to disappear.  
    Sol and Fate thought they had won.  They relaxed their guard; no changelings emerged.  
    For eight thousand years.