When there was only the sun and moon in the sky, and the world was young, the Fyrrea, God of Fire, walks through the tall trees towards the little carved-out land and to His love, Esha, a mortal. Ayrii, God of Air, Terraii, God of Terrain, and Waequa, Goddess of Water all advised against falling in love with a mortal. Though none of them had been in love yet themselves, they understood human love as fickle. Fyrrea, also the Goddess of Passion, could never resist love. Every step, Fyrrea moves with excitement. His child grew in Esha’s belly, just as Terraii had predicted, but as she was mortal, and Ayrii and Waequa insisted on waiting, forcing him to wait until the barley sprouted. Until then, he would be Finick, the village blacksmith.

      Esha, a distance away, staring at the barley in her cabin, immobilized as the sprouted barley sitting in the bottom of her chamber pot, stared back at her. The wisps of grain sitting in the yellow liquid, the edges of the inner pot browning just enough to warrant its continued fermentation. Babies, while a gift, were also a curse. Many a woman dies in childbirth. Many a woman dies after childbirth. Many a child dies at birth. Many a child dies after birth. Babies were a threat to mortals’ fermentation beneath the soil. Esha would rather risk sinning against the gods than disappear from their sight. To ensure this, Esha expressed her suspicions about her pregnancy to Kilana, who had already purchased a type of herb to sin against the gods. Kilana was not far away, hoping to help ease Esha’s burden. 

      Walking out of the cabin and towards the field, Esha’s eyes fell on the outline of Finick. The sun was too bright for this day; the day’s heat was too heavy. Birds sang softly as they hid in the shade of the trees. Finick was home soon enough, and Esha stepped aside, allowing him into the cabin, and toward the barley sprouting in the chamber pot. Finick’s gleeful smile meets with a sour frown. 

     “Esha, I need to tell you something. Now that you are with child, with my child, I can finally tell you.” Fyrrea begins. Sitting beside her, he tells her who he is, who their child could be. A Demi-god. Immortal. And for as long as her child is within her, and as far as Esha is alive, she will experience mild god-like afflictions by proxy. To raise her son, she will be immune to fire until he is old enough to control himself, guaranteeing that she will survive the childbirth.

      “I will be the mother of a Demi-god?” Esha exclaimed, an ecstatic smile breaking across her near tear-ridden face. Esha looks down at her stomach. The heat burning from the life within her transforms from her baby, turning her stomach into a brazen bull towards a burn of a warm hug. A knock interrupts the God and the Goddess-by-proxy, and they turn to see Kilana standing before them, not with herbs, but a spear.

      “No need, Kilana. We are keeping it; our child will be a Demi-god.”

      “I know.” Kilana whispered, launching the spear into Esha’s stomach. Esha’s body falls limp. Ayrii feels Esha’s anguish and takes her breath, Esha’s life gone before Fyrrea could wrap her in his arms. Fury engulfs the God, a flood of fire consuming Kilana and all else, burning it to ash.

      “Ayrii! Return her breath!”

      “It is not her fate.” Ayrii answers.

      “Waequa! Cleanse her body and heal her wounds!”

      “It is not her fate.” Waequa answers.

       “Terraii! Give her the gift for life to grow!”

      “It is not her fate.” With every sob, Fyrrea expelled another ripple of fire, until Esha burned away.

      Night has fallen; the moon glows above. Through Fyrrea’s grief, he sees that something glows before him. It is too bright and scattered to be his cause. Fyrrea’s unborn child still exists in small, sprinkling pieces of eternal light. His wife he may mourn, the fractured remnants of his child, nothing more than a reminder of the betrayal of his fellow gods. Fyrrea launches himself towards the heavens, and a mountain surges up with him, and lava spills from it’s core from deep inside the earth.

      Fyrrea announces to all, “There shall never be another Demi-god. Should a Demi-god ever be conceived, I will take it from the mother’s belly, break it into pieces, and throw them across the sky. A forever reminder of my equals cruelty.”

      Fyrrea takes the pieces of his son, casting his unborn throughout the night sky. From here on, if any of the gods or goddesses are bestowed with a child, Fyrrea takes the child’s remains, scattering it across the night sky for all to see, and every time, a volcano like Mount Eshai erupts.