We always dreamed of this wonderful word, my father spoke of it as many times as he could because he held the same dream as his own father. That word was so mystical, it stings when I first heard it. We only had few words back then apparently, even now. For many of us this word is rare and important, it feels primitive and crude. It’s short and concise yet holds so much meaning, a vestige of a time that we consider primal.

U’t. To look upon what is calming, the sky as if fed from the below. Your own reflection dancing in the swirling circle of dreams. To many of us there was no such thing as U’t. This old and simple word for us is a word that echoes back long and far. What we called an ocean was U’t. A poetic word for a story of a primitive people who first gazed upon the vast, endless oceans of the world as they finally migrated from their family’s ancient watering hole, coming along with them the many other tribes they traded and wed amongst.

the leader among them we know now as the Ascadian Corvul, whose original name is but a whisper. He is the ancient leader who was spoken of in oral legends. As the native as Mazzitia call it.

Of the great god Qorvyya, mighty when his empire was large, who whispered the truth to the others who scampered like rats among the woods. He was the wisest of us and he planted that seed. He led his people to the lane of Uit. From there he governed both under Heaven, and amongst the slumbering glass that spread like a dream ahead of his people.
.