Long ago, before the dawn of man, the gods feuded in endless strife. They were a community of equals in the beginning, ordained as elements of Cosmic Law with power to manage the natural world. None could endure this state of equality, however, and seeking power over each other, the members of the hallowed pantheon conspired and fought, changing the shape of the world and driving many species to extinction.
Though ambitious, the gods also loved the world and its creatures, and mourned the destruction they caused as they wreaked devastation across land and sea. So it was agreed that they would separate themselves from the world, and from each other. For the greatest desire and greatest fear of the gods was that they should conceive children, offspring who would tilt the balance of power in favor of their parents and see them at last triumph over their fellows. Attempted trysts formed the locus of most conflicts, but none had managed to get as far as conception before the divinities declared their truce and parley.
So it was that separate realms were established, veiled from the human world and from each other, one for the gods and one for the goddesses. These realms were themselves divided into the fiefs of the different divinities, based on their domain within the natural world. The gods were more elemental; fire and water, light and darkness, wind and earth, plants and animals. The goddesses, however, concerned themselves more with the government of these things in harmony, and what they produced in concert; peace and war, desire and happiness, prosperity and want, life and death.
Their separation did not still their conflict, for a new contest came to them as the race of man emerged. Men and women, old and young, all could pray to any deity, and this prayer enhanced them beyond their native power. This helped to civilize discourse amongst them, as they competed by administering their grace upon their worshippers. Additionally, they could take humans as their own, to be courtiers and servants. But they could only take humans of their own gender, for the divine could interbreed with humans. The child of that union would be full divine as if they had partnered with another God, and so the spells binding their compact forebade the bringing of women or girls to the realm of Gods or of men or boys to the realm of Goddesses, lest their peace unravel and the divine conflict begin anew. So they abided by their treaty.
But they never forgot their oldest desire…
A column of light blazed forth from the altar, signaling the latest arrival from the world of mortals. One figure awaited the new arrival, obscured by the light. The new arrival howled, screaming in a cry of anguish that went right to the heart of the waiting figure. The light dimmed, and the arrival stood revealed: a young woman, heavily pregnant, her pure white vestments soaked from her broken water. She cried in pain, a terrible labor.
She was dying.
The onlooker knew that the new arrival was at death’s door at a glance. She had no formal training in the healing arts, but she did not need them. The onlooker was the source of all healing arts, the first doctor, nurse, healer, and midwife. She was powerful in this realm, but not omnipotent. If this woman had arrived but minutes ago, she could have prevented this, but the mortal woman was now passing out of her realm, and into the realm of her rival. Already the woman had lost consciousness, screaming merely out of reflex as the flame of her life guttered and went out. She shuddered, and her breathing began to slow.
Yes, the onlooker was Bastet, the Goddess of Life. She was mighty, but Death was equally powerful, and begrudged her rival any claim. Bastet’s divine figure was distinguished by feline features, compelling golden cat’s eyes, black cat ears sprouting from her head of jet black hair. Her skin was a deep tan where it emerged from her long white tunic, trimmed with gold.
Bastet waved her arms in a flourish. The woman was moments from death, but life grew within her, tiny and weak, but still well within the Bastet’s domain. At last the woman lay still, and Bastet waved her arms again, before holding them outstretched. The woman’s body vanished, and a newborn child appeared in her arms, crying.
Bastet was moved by this child. Its mother, or some other who had cared for the mother, had expressed true piety, true belief, and so had arrived here, too late to save her own life, but soon enough to see that the life within was spared, which otherwise would have perished alongside its mother. Even to the Goddess, these events could only be called divine providence, especially as she looked upon the child and realized its gender.
The baby was a boy. Truly it could only be some higher force of the universe which brought the pregnant mother here. Prayer and piety could bring mortal women to the realm of the goddesses, there to live out their lives as a servant of their chosen deity, but never before had a woman been sent with child. What chance that a pregnant woman should arrive, and what chance more that the one she bore should be a boy? Ever since the ancient times and the beginnings of the world, neither boy, man, nor God had ever entered into the realm of the Goddesses. This child’s arrival would shake the foundations of the age-old order.
Even knowing this, Bastet would raise him. Life was her domain, and this life had been given into her care. As much as this boy had arrived for a reason, he had come to her for a different reason. Whatever else came, she was meant to raise this life, for as long as she could safely do so.
“Theodore,” she said to the boy. And as if the boy’s new-given name were a spell, the newborn grew silent. Indeed the name was fitting: God’s Gift, and the first gift given to the child by the most high.
