This is more than I have ever been shown before. If Earth is so small to this scale, why are the burdens so hard to bear? I truly am powerless. Just then, a faint sound broke the silence and her thoughts. Slowly it grew louder, a high pitched cry of distress. A siren? Do the gods warn me of some danger?
A wave of heat broke Gretchel from her meditative state. The pitch pillar directly ahead of her was crowned with white fire. The wind began to pick up and the lone flame danced and grew. Gusts strengthened, sending sparks and ash in all directions. A second torch caught, then a third, and soon all nine columns were sporting a searing blaze. Each pyre produced a colossal trail of smoke whirling into the firmament.
Nine rivers of smog snaked and intertwined, twisting and writhing in the wind until it formed a whirlpool of darkness into the heavens. Gretchel looked up into the inverted tornado wondering if the sky itself had split and if this Earth would be devoured. The funnel blotted out the stars and all else, yet the torches kept the endless shadow at bay. From the center of the spiraling abyss drifted the faintest of calls.
A clap of thunder broke the sky. The smoky vortex shattered, unveiling the cosmos. The flares became flakes; white fire crumbled into bits of glowing dust trailing through the sporadic wind, settling towards the center of the Sun-and-Moon. There coalesced a form of light; a bulbous sphere steadily shifting and stretching, shaping a newborn child.