When the Webs Were Not Yet Spun
First Threads When the Webs Were Not Yet Spun
I believe the Wyrm was first. There was nothing, no light, no darkness, nothing. That nothing was the Wyrm, the Uncreator. It slept, sated from having destroyed everything that had been before, if there was indeed a before.
While the Uncreator slept, the Wyld came into being, an explosion of great fire and chaotic birth that filled the void and disrupted the silence of the universe. The Wyld was everything the Wyrm was not; it was Creation, chaos without focus or purpose, and they hated each other from the first moment. The Creator created, and the Uncreator destroyed, unable to tolerate the noise and light, the cacophony of endless variables and changes.
They would have fought forever, had it not been for the
Weaver. Wyld claims it gave birth to the Weaver, for nothing could exist without its powers to create. Wyrm says it created the Weaver to reign in the endless changes of Wyld. Weaver says it was born to create balance between the two. Perhaps
Weaver was created by the constant fluctuations of Creation and Uncreation, given sentience because it needed to stop the newly forming universe from destroying itself and rebuilding itself endlessly. Whatever the case, from the chaos and silence that struggled for domination, Order was born. There was symmetry at last, a balance between existence and oblivion. The universe’s birth was complete.
Wyld continued to create, and Wyrm continued to destroy, but Weaver put perspective on both of these tasks.
What Wyld created took form, and was given time to exist before Weaver would allow Wyrm to devour the creations.
Wyrm accepted this change, understanding that the constant fighting with its counterpart was useless. Though Wyrm remained hungry as it had ever been, it agreed to eat less, to bide its time between meals. As reward for patience, Weaver gave each thing in the universe a different shape and texture.
The Wyrm chose to eat some things quickly, because it liked the flavor of these things and could barely restrain its need to enjoy the tastes. Wyld agreed to this as well, because it liked to have its creations around for a time, even if they were restricted to certain times and places and shapes.
And so it went: Wyld created, Weaver shaped, and
Wyrm devoured in an endless cycle. In time the cycle became almost too regular for the Wyld, however, and it began a new way of approaching the changes. It created Life. It gave minds to the entities it created, and the Weaver, seeing this new addition as a challenge, began to give form to the Life as well.
Weaver had no idea what problems would come from the decision. At first life was simply there, minute entities so far removed from the Triat that it might as well not have existed. Wyrm followed the rules just the same, consuming the lives as each fragment of existence came to the end of its allotted time. When Weaver began to expand on the life created by Wyld, it wanted the beings to exist as singular entities, one of a kind creations that would live, die and be forgotten. Wyld wanted nothing of the sort. Wyld touched the life again, after Weaver had already given it form, and gave of itself a second time, allowing change in the forms
Weaver had created. There, my children, is where the troubles truly began.
“Why have you changed what I already formed?” Weaver asked of Wyld.
Wyld replied simply, “I did not like the forms you made, so I gave them the ability to change, to alter themselves to better suit their needs.”
“I have allowed you to make life,” Wyrm stated dryly, “but I never agreed to this.”
Wyld snarled in response, angered by the presumption that it should have to ask permission.
Once again Wyrm and Wyld argued, and while many of the forms created by Wyld survived, many others were destroyed by Wyrm’s response to the anger. “If you can make them without permission,” he hissed, “I can destroy them in the same way.”
Again the two fought, and their rage was enough to shake the very universe. While they struggled, Weaver touched the things with life again, reweaving their patterns, altering them as it saw fit. When it was done with this task, it looked to its siblings and smiled. “There is no reason to fight,” said Weaver.
“I have changed them again, so that they can be perfect. They will age and die, but before they do, they will have a chance to make more of their own, thus allowing them to continue in a different form. This way everyone is happy.”
Wyrm and Wyld considered this for a time, and watched as the life on Gaia grew and slowly changed. Evolution took place and life became more than it was at first. The plants came into existence, and the creatures took shape. Amphibians began to evolve from the primordial life, and with them came the insects.
Weaver was pleased: nothing ever truly went to waste.
One life form would eat another to survive and then excrete the wastes from its bowels, which would help yet another to grow and prosper. The life cycle was as it should be. Wyrm was content, because everything eventually died, allowing less of the chaos and noise of the Wyld to distract Wyrm, and sating the endless hunger of the Uncreator. Wyld was only slightly mollified, however, wanting greater changes and more radical transformations. Unwilling to upset the balance again, however, Wyld turned to a different form of creation. Wyld created the spirits. Wyld gave everything a spirit, even the worlds themselves, but the only one of significance in this tale is the spirit of Gaia.
Gaia was the first of Wyld’s children. She was bright and beautiful and vibrant. Just as with her creator, Gaia wanted things to change constantly, but she allowed Weaver to touch her, to give her form and function, and allowed Wyrm the same privilege. All things would die eventually, even Gaia herself. But Gaia was a powerful spirit, and her death would not come for a very long time.
One day Weaver grew a bit jealous of Wyld. Weaver realized that it could not create life, but could only define it, give it form and function. Wyld carelessly gave life to all things, and Weaver was constantly redefining the shape of the living things, making minor changes and improving upon the designs of the originals. Wyld would come back and touch the living creatures again, making more radical alterations, and Weaver grew angrier and angrier every time. Wyrm, for his part, kept killing the living things, as was his duty. After a time, Weaver decided that it lacked symmetry. As a part of the Triat it was complete, but without its siblings, it felt empty, lonely. Weaver needed companionship.
Finally, unable to tolerate not actually creating anything any longer, Weaver came up with an idea. Weaver took from its own energy and shaped another. Weaver formed the part of itself it had removed, shaping it until it was satisfied with the results. Then Weaver set that part free to grow and change and prosper. Weaver looked upon its creation and smiled, happy to have an ally to assist with the burdens of forming the universe. “I will call you Ananasa,” she said. “You will be second only to me, and you will help me in my duties.” Thus I was born into the universe.
If my beliefs and the Weaver’s were as one at first, that was something that changed in time. Initially I helped create order from chaos, as was my duty. My weaving skills were powerful, and I found that many of the tasks I had were far too simple. So
I made changes on my own. I altered the ways in which certain creatures thought, making them more diverse, less like their brethren. I did this not to disobey the Weaver, but because the world needed more than it had to thrive and prosper. Where once there had only been the flying insect, I broke the pattern of the hive and allowed diversity. Soon there were bees, wasps, hornets and the like. I recreated them, and the Wyld in turn gave them spirits. Wyld soon took a liking to my ways, and we became friends. Before long, Wyld had a great deal of influence over what I was creating, we worked together to make the diversity that you see in the world today.
But Weaver was not amused. Weaver grew angry, raging about my desire to make new things, and change the ones that were already there. “Gaia is not static,” I said.
“Gaia goes through constant changes. Without the ability to change, to adapt to their environs, the creatures you give form will die too soon. Wyrm will kill them even faster.”
“Why then must Wyrm destroy my creations?” asked Weaver. “They are perfect as they are, and need no changes.
Nor should they ever fade and die.”
“Ah,” I said, at last understanding what was bothering
Weaver. “But you created them to die. You made them with deliberate frailties, thus allowing Wyrm to eat his fill and Wyld to continue creating. That is our purpose, is it not, Great Weaver? To make symmetry of chaos, balance from imbalance?”
“My purpose is to give order, yes, but order alone is not enough. There must be structure, continuity and endless perfection.” Weaver folded her many legs, content that she had ended the argument.
I was not so easily finished, however. “Endless perfection is not possible in a universe where change is still a reality,” I said. “The lack of change would mean that Wyld no longer functioned. Wyld is a necessity.”
“I tell you what is necessary, Ananasa; you do not dictate the ways of the Triat to me.” Weaver’s voice was a hiss of frustration. What Weaver formed should not fall apart — in Weaver’s mind. Weaver wanted perfection, and that could never exist in a universe of change, but Weaver could not understand this, would not understand because the notion was not appealing.
Without another word, Weaver set out to capture
Wyld, feeling that Wyld could not change the perfection
Weaver desired if Wyld was bound. I called out warning to Wyld, but Wyld only laughed. “Weaver cannot hold me, little sister. I am chaos, and I have no form.”
Wyld was right. Weaver tried again and again, but
Wyld slipped away from the webs Weaver spun, as surely as water moves between stones in a riverbed. Wyrm heard the battle and moved over to watch, curious as to why Weaver would try to capture Wyld. Once again the battles were mighty. Weaver cast the webs of order and Wyld danced chaotically from between the strands. The energies released would have caused harm on their own, so I captured those energies and began to weave them.
Wyrm moved closer, drawn by what I was doing. You see, Wyrm too had a special place in the universe, and while powerful, was unable to create. “What are you making, little sister?” Wyrm asked of me.
“I am making a new life,” I replied. “A life that is both
Weaver and Wyld from the very beginning. Something that has never been made before.”
Wyrm sighed, sullen and wounded. “Why can I never create such things? Why must I only devour them?”
Seeing Wyrm’s grief, I came up with an idea. “Perhaps you can help me make this one, then? It is already Weaver and Wyld, perhaps by adding Wyrm, we can make the perfect creature.”
Wyrm grew excited, and though he was not used to the notion of creating, he gave of himself, helping me finish with my new creation. When I was finished, I held the prize for all the Triat to see, and even Weaver and Wyld, caught as they were in their struggles, stopped fighting to examine the new life. “Look at what I have made,” I said. “Look upon the first child of Weaver, Wyld and Wyrm.”
Like proud, doting parents, the Triat looked upon the spider in my hands and smiled. Before any could respond, the spider did the unthinkable — it created its own spirit. We were all surprised, but very happy. Spider was a perfect creation of the forces of the Triat in harmony. It could hunt and kill, was designed as a predator, but it could adapt of its own accord to live in almost any environment on Gaia. And it could create.
It thrived in places where Wyld was strong, thriving even in the face of chaos. Yet it worked with the meticulous patience of
Weaver, constantly striving of its own accord to reach for perfection. Spider was patient, calculating and independent; it did not need to be with its own kind to be strong. Spider was also a killer, fast, efficient and ruthless. Spider was the best of all philosophies, and beautiful in its symmetry.
Then there was a great debate between the Triat. What should be done with Spider? It was almost too perfect. If left to its own accord, it would kill everything on Gaia, and even
Wyrm did not want that. Wyrm was always hungry, but had learned patience and liked the variety of flavors Life provided.
After many days of debate the decision was made: “We will make Spider small,” Weaver declared. “Spider will rule over the insects and other small things, keeping them from growing too far and controlling their numbers. For we all know that the insects are capable of great destruction when they are too hungry and too many.” Wyld and Wyrm agreed, and it was done. Spider was set upon Gaia’s back, and quickly spread across her, devouring the insects that bred too quickly.
For a time all was well. Then Weaver chafed again, frustrated by the changes that continued in what it shaped.
By this time there were many creatures on the earth, great fish that swam beneath the oceans and great lizards that roamed the earth. Even in this time the insects were everywhere. Weaver complained once more, but did nothing to mend the problems.
For my part, I debated the meaning of the universe with all the members of the Triat. I wanted to understand the symmetry between them and make certain that it would last.
Even then I feared the balance would be lost.
Wyld saw the spirits of the animals and contemplated them. He’d made them for a purpose, but wasn’t sure how best to use them. He spoke to Gaia about the problem and together they arrived at a solution. They decided the best way to use those spirits was to have them aid him in protecting his creations. In the earliest times, he took the spirit of the Lizard and placed it within the bodies of the lizards that walked across Gaia. “You shall be Gaia’s memory. You will remember everything that transpires, and you will remind both me and Gaia when we risk folly.” The Mokolé agreed.
Next he turned to the waters and placed the spirit of
Shark within certain of the sharks in the depths. “You shall persevere. No matter what the task or trial, you will survive, for that is the way of the Wyld.” The Rokea agreed.
Weaver looked upon these creations and again felt envy. “If Wyld can do this, what is to stop me?” She asked the question aloud, but did not expect an answer.
I answered her anyway. “There is nothing to stop you,
Great Weaver. Are not the insects yours to rule over? Did you not give them structure and order far beyond what most would comprehend?”
Weaver smiled. “That is so. I will make my own guardians for Gaia.” Weaver turned to the spirits and caught them in her many arms. Where Wyld made but two, Weaver made many.
The Bees were given over to the bees on Gaia, and the Moths were given to the moths. So too, the Hornets and the Locusts, the Ants and the Termites. “You will make Order from Chaos.
You will build great structures in MY name, and you will thrive in multitudes.” They all agreed, save for the moths, and Weaver immediately crushed the spirits that were held within the earthly moths, destroying them before they could do anything.
For a moment the universe itself grew quiet. Weaver had done the unthinkable. Weaver had destroyed. Wyrm was overjoyed by the action, thrilled to think at last that someone understood his feelings and desires. Wyld was outraged.
“You would destroy? You who are only to make structure and balance would destroy? Have you gone mad?” Wyld lashed out, striking Weaver and starting the first of the great changes. These changes came upon Gaia, great changes that have lead to the creation of many of the creatures on her back today. Luna awoke then, and in her time she too had life upon her back, but Weaver took the time in the rampaging battle to make Luna into an example of perfection. All that was on her died, trapped in the perfect silence of absolute order. Luna still lives as a spirit, but the life that once dwelled upon her is long gone.
Still, the sacrifice stopped the war again, ceased the squabbles between the siblings for a time — long enough for me to make my point known to the Triat.
I took the spirit of Spider unto myself, and we had children. The egg sac was large, but the children who hatched from it were small. I gathered the children together in my arms and carefully, meticulously, placed them in the bodies of spiders on Gaia’s back. While the war raged in the heavens, I whispered softly to my children. “You will do as I say, always, for I am your mother and I love you.” The Ananasi agreed.
And thus were your kind born into this world.
I am a child of Weaver, her sister and her daughter both, a part of her removed from the whole to aid in her tasks and to help make order from chaos. But I am not Weaver. I have never been Weaver. Weaver is unique, as I am unique. I have a different perspective on the universe. That finally became clear when Weaver did the unthinkable a second time.
Wyrm was stricken by Weaver’s beauty. He always had been. But seeing Weaver destroy was something new, and