Sriae, Great Deity of Light

Representing not only the sun and the daytime, but also truth, and enlightenment, Sriae asks for leaders to be born and raised to usher in the brightness of a new dawn. The symbol of her sun is used by many in power: Kings, Politicians, Warlords, Professors - all see themselves as leaders, and so Sriae is able to align herself with the strongest, smartest, and bravest in the world - though only those who hold the light of truth gain her true support.

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Upon the expansion of the world of Moann’s waters, sisters Sriae and Khades were finally happy with one another. Sriae could shine her light all day as she moved around Fortuna, while Khades could spread her shadows all night as she did the same. Distance made them grow fonder, as they only saw one another at dawn and twilight, and only ever briefly.

With so much alone time, however, Sriae grew bored. She took up art, swirling clouds and colours into her skies to make them prettier, and always made sure to show them to Khades when they got together - the rich reds and oranges at sunset, the cooler paintings at twilight. At first, Khades was rather interested. As time went on however, Khades seemed more distant during their meetings. Sriae thought that it was due to Khades’ obsession with discovering the birth of curiosity, but even after Temos was discovered, Khades continued to seem disinterested in her sister’s conversation and art. Sriae asked what was wrong, what had Khades distracted, and Khades would merely say that she was quite tired.

Sriae grew frustrated. Perhaps Khades was growing apart from her, losing what they had in common. It had been thousands of years since the two had been inseparable - perhaps this was just how things would become. After all, she would prefer mild conversation over the wars of Veira and Paiia; she would take simple pleasantries over never seeing Khades again the way that Streike would never see Ayniea. All Sriae needed was a new hobby. So, she set her sights on Liesdro.

The country was the one formed in her honour, and was home to the Sun King. He was a boring kind of fellow, but ruled with her ideals in mind. He was absolutely fine, she supposed - but also absolutely boring. The world around Liesdro was changing so much, and here her land had stayed stagnant, the same. This would be her new hobby.

She departed from the skies, leaving her lights to do their own work, and appeared as a mortal in Liesdro. She seemed quite average to the eye - perhaps even plain - but in the eyes of a mirror her true self would be revealed. She traveled her country, taking in all that it had to offer. Finally, when she felt she understood her people, she encountered an artist. This artist created magnificent works of art that seemed to illuminate the plight of Sriae’s people in a way that she had never noticed in her journey. His paintings were destroyed by men in royal uniform.

She was enraptured, and began to follow the artist across the country. She watched as he observed, sketched, painted, and as she watched, with each moment she understood more.

Her people were unsatisfied with their king, who ruled with many of Sriae’s values - but not for their benefit. They suffered under him. They were stifled, unable to create; unable to reveal the truth of their world. To Sriae in the heavens, and to the other mortals of the world, Liesdro was truly gleaming. Beneath the veneer however, was reality. Darker. Dissenters punished for speaking, singing, creating art.

Sriae was reminded of Fayana’s rampage many years ago, where her mother had become lost in rage and forgot what was important - nearly killing her mortals in the process. She assumed that this king would be the same, and he merely needed a lesson.

She approached the artist and engaged in simple conversation. She was not used to the way mortals talked, but he seemed to understand her - a true disciple of her will. She convinced him - or perhaps he convinced her - to bring his impressive works of art to the King, so he could understand the plight of their people.

They journeyed together, walking across the country, the kingdom to the King’s castle. Along their way they met other artists who portrayed truth through their art:

The bard who had his instruments destroyed by royal guard. He had learned how to sing - though his voice warbled and was off-pitch - because it was the last instrument he had, and certainly they couldn’t take it from him. He was broken and bruised, but still he kept singing.

Then there was the sculptor, who spent months on each creation, but who had each of them destroyed by the royal guard for “promoting dissent”. She had not lost hope, instead rebuilding them again and again so that all could see the truth of the place they lived.

Finally was the jester, who had been imprisoned after presenting to the King a satirical joke about how he treated his citizens. The King took the joke as an accusation. The jester persuaded her way out of prison, but had been in hiding until she heard of the Plain Girl and her troupe of artists.

The five of them: Sriae, Painter, Bard, Sculptor, and Jester completed their pilgrimage and found their way to the King’s receiving line. He would hear from anyone who wished to wait in the line and bring in some form of payment - the line could last a week while the King refused subjects. Eventually, however, he would allow them in and would entertain their pleas. Sriae and her troupe had caused much fuss, and did not wait. They wheeled into the King’s throne room with the paintings and sculptures, and Sriae’s own secret creation in a covered wagon and bowed before him. He demanded their payment, and Sriae spoke up.

“Sun King, accept these glorious works of art as our payment. Along with a song from our bard, and a joke from our jester. But above all this, Sun King, we beseech thee, await our ending before you act. Listen and hear us your loyal subjects, for we are watched by the all-seeing gaze of Sriae..”

The King could hardly hold back his laughter at this bold statement, and his guards made moves towards the disguised Sriae. He held them back however, curious at what they had brought him.

The jester told a single joke, one that had the other peasants in line laugh, but the King frowned. He waved, and his guards arrested the jester. Sriae spoke up:

“Sun King, we ask you to see.”

The King responded: “I am losing patience with you. I will permit you to show me each of your talents, but I shall not be mocked. Hurry it up.”

The sculptor approached next, wheeling the image a marble leafed in gold, engorged on the harvests and treasures famous of the Liesdron people as several baby piglets lay dying and starved. The guards needed no instruction and seized her, destroying the sculpture as Sriae looked on.

“Sun King, we ask you to listen.”

The King responded: “My patience is all I shall give you, and in return I expect that each one of you shall continue to offer me your heads with these traitorous works! Or do you have something new to say, peasants?”

The bard stood next, tapping his foot on the marble floor, clapping, and whistling. The other peasants in the room took up the tune, and the bard was able to sing. He sung of a sad tale he had seen on the streets, and of how everyone begged for their King to show mercy and benevolence, and how in this tale, the King showed it to his people, and he was celebrated by all. The King paused for a moment, and then waved his hand to seize the bard and force him to his knees with the sculptor and jester.

“Sun King, we ask you to understand.”

The King responded: “My patience is running out, girl.”

The painter looked to Sriae, who nodded to him. He looked less convinced of her plan, but upon hearing the King’s derision, stood tall. He pulled a massive scroll of cloth from the cart and unfurled it before the King. He had painted the cloth over the entire pilgrimage, showing the images they had seen the entire way. The way the image changed as they neared the palace chilled many of the peasants in line who moved forth to see it - but the guards held them back. The King stood for this, and walking the length of the painted tapestry. Sriae and the painter held their breaths -- but it was knocked out of him soon after. The King waved his hand and a guard knocked him to the floor, putting him with the others.

The King turned to Sriae, expecting her to speak again. She merely stared at him, disappointed. “Well, girl? What did you bring me? Or are you afraid you will displease me and have your head lobbed into the same basket as your companions? Speak!”

Sriae did not speak, instead rolling the cart forth. As the curtains blew, many of the peasant’s eyes went wide. Concerned, the guards then looked, and so did their’s. The King, confused, stepped back in worry.

“Sun King, we asked for you to wait, to see, to listen, and to understand. The choice was offered, and you rejected it. Now you have no choice.”

The King responded: “Guards! Guards! Grab her now!” But they did not move, for they had seen what was under the curtains. When the cart was in position, Sriae faced it, away from the King, and pulled the curtains free. Beneath, was a beautifully crafted mirror. She looked into it, and her plain peasant’s face was turned into the unmistakable glory of Sriae. She watched the King in the mirror as his face fell slack and his eyes turned to horror at his grand mistake.

“My goddess. My deity. Sriae.” The King fell to his knees before her, not daring to look up. Every other soul in the room fell to their knees, but Sriae put out a hand to stop them.

“Not a soul need bow to my presence. Not a soul but him.”

Everyone slowly stood, including the four artists who looked on with wonder. They had not realized who they had been traveling with, and they looked back on their times with amazement. Sriae’s voice now boomed:

“Sun King. You ignore the voices of your people and refuse enlightenment. Your people come to you, asking you to listen to them and see their troubles, and you demand payment; you turn away; you arrest them. You destroy their works, their tools, their voices. You act as the voice of me, of your God? You are foolish, and unfit to be ruler of these people. But I am not a King, nor Queen, nor ruler of any kind. I do not command you to do anything. I simply ask of you to open your eyes: To see that your people need you. That listening to their voices is the only way of finding enlightenment as a leader. Should you not heed my words, you are a blasphemer of my name, and I shall leave it to the Great Streike to pass judgment on your life after this one.”

The King was frozen in place, but managed to nod. “I understand, my deity. I… I apologize. I misread your texts and--” Sriae silenced him, rejecting excuses and simply turning to leave. The peasants and artists and guards all followed to see her, while the king was left alone - staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Many claim that after this encounter - if it really happened - the King destroyed the crown, and ushered in a new era in Liesdro, where the land would be ruled by a council of the best and brightest - not by a single person chosen by a deity. To this day, the council reigns, and each member wears the crest of the sun, with a mirror at its core.