So it came to pass that the four children of the Great Mother each created a companion. First was Amadahy, who forswearing the warmth of man and god, sought alone a child to mother and to love in all eternities. Tightly she clasped the golden vial in which were the three drops of womb-blood of the All-Conceiving Mother. She searched across Maegard for a place of rest to make her child, and found an island between the tides, a high mountain, the only land of A’mi that had not drowned, where there lived the small people and those halflings of land and sea, they were called the Atels. They welcomed her upon their land, serving her the most bountiful of fish and shells to feast upon, and the sacred water from their deep springs, said to grant life immortal and prosperous to those whose lips it touched. There Amadahy journeyed, deep within a mountain cave where there fell silver water.

“These immortal waters shalt be breeding ground for this child of mine,” said she, dropping the Mother’s blood down into the water’s pool, then sinking down below the surface. She withdrew from herself a silver hair to give her child the same beauty as she, and there turned the pool to ice so that she might slumber at the child’s side. Encased there, three months passed and Amadahy opened her eyes to gaze upon a son, of years nine, hair pale as hers and eyes of shining ice. She pulled then from her soul her own holy power over the waters, dividing it to two parts, keeping one within herself, breathing the other through pale lips into the heart of her fair son. There in her arms he grew from boy to man, becoming handsome and honourable in heart as power grew in his body. Amadahy gave him his name, Dralmor, then split the ice apart and freed them both to return to the world of mortals, to walk there together.

The End

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