Once there was an age when the silver wheels that guided the primal heavens yet remained three. At that time, the laws bestowed from the heavens had yet to be assembled, and the boundaries of humanity had yet to be defined. The sons and daughters of the gods were scattered across the newly-wrought gardens and valleys, their number countless. The envoys of the sky walked among benighted human crowds then, sowing prosperity and wisdom. In the end, the prosperity promised by the gods kindled the flame of intellect, which in turn stirred the whispers of doubt. In quest of the answer, the people chose their priests; in fear of the answer, the priests anointed their kings. Mortal folly stirred the ire of the gods' envoys. Faced with their questions, the divine envoys uttered no word. And so the people turned their gazes toward the sky, offering sacrifices to the three bright moons in the dark, sunless night. Above the night sky, the daughters of dreams and poetry kept vigilant, unceasing watch over the mortal world's every change. In the deep slumber of the Arianrhod Realm, at the foot of the seventy-tiered staircase, beside the gleaming silver vessels. Until they heard that the hearts of these pitiful little humans would also stir with the lunar quakes... The night cast its eyes upon the earth, just as the silver stars once lit the way for the dragons' sky-faring ships. They brought madness and inspiration back beneath the moon. It was a reply that Order could not give. When the morning star rose again, the archpriest returned from the mountain's summit with a small circular talisman. This "Moon Wheel" was the new pact between the three moons and the people.

Once there was an age when the silver wheels that guided the primal heavens yet remained three. At that time, The Winged One who tread upon morning stars and dwelt high above the moon became the Lord of the Eternal Heavens. The Ark was moored, the matter of creation complete. The mountains and rivers were wrought in their turn. Beneath the earth and deep within the seas dwelt the fallen clans and broken kings of the Old World. The Lord of the World within the eggshell drew a false veil to shut out the true, bedeviled skies, Obscuring dread that once robbed kings of sleep, even those who held dominion over beasts. The sun's fierce light swept the heavens clean, but the freshly forged throne still reserved a place in the sky for the Three Sisters of the Moonlit Night. Perhaps by its design, even a world where the elements surge in perfect order still needed tides. The Lectors of Thirty Nights knew that alone, they could not protect this lonely, desolate planet from the inevitable doom that approached. Before the coming of the final extinction, no victor in the struggle of good and evil could be worse than the doom of falling together into eternal oblivion. Perhaps their former lord, shrouded in mist, would never find the answer. Or perhaps that answer was already at hand. As they had hoped, the great ruler of the firmament spurned the destroyer veiled in black mist. No doubt, through its long voyage across the shadowed realms, it had witnessed countless stars meet their end. And so, they too chose Order. Or, more accurately, made space to accommodate it. That was the age when the three moons shared governance with the morning star. That was the age when Eternity was yet Eternity.

Once there was an age when the silver wheels that guided the primal heavens yet remained three. At that time, the primeval dragon nurtured by the perfumed sea sailed deep into the skies, disappearing into the mists among the stars. So deep were those dark mists that even the light of a thousand stars could not escape their gravity. To find the answer before this planet was also consumed, the great dragon embarked upon an arduous quest alone. He raised three bright moons from the ground and bound this tiny world tightly with the chains of the tides. Moonlight would illuminate the bountiful land throughout the Long Night of the end, until the dragon returned from the mist-shrouded realm. Yet, as one thousand years passed into another, the three moon sisters awaited in vain the return of their former lord. Until the day that the winged Descender arrived, treading upon the morning star... It was not the great enemy that would extinguish the stars, nor did it seem intent on plundering the wellspring sustaining the world's existence. Faced with this uninvited guest, the three guardians who represented the will of the planet debated endlessly. But whether by submission or rebellion, by battle or by death, the Lord of Hosts would mercilessly crush all that stood in its way. For this was the new world it had chosen for the children of humankind, and according to its design, both earth and sky would be reborn. Before the conquest of the day reached its fated close, the servants of the night could but bide their time...

Once there was an age when the silver wheels that guided the primal heavens yet remained three. The sleepers of the Three Realms had yet to awaken. Their dreams and yearnings were known only to the watchful night. To draw lost spirits into the moon's gilded halls, a giant silver ship sailed into the harbor of Meropis. The paradise, once hallowed for the life that flows within the breath of the Elements, now opens its gates even to mortals. Those who chase the tides laud the Silver King, offering songs and dances to the triple crown of the moonlit night. When contrasted against the wrathful and merciless Formidable Father, the three moons' gentle light comforted all lost souls like a loving mother. Thus, the peoples of the earth offered their greatest devotion to the Lady Mothers of the Moonlit Night. Some would ascend the heights of Vindagnyr, presenting laurel-crowned verses to the bright moons; Others would step into the sacred altar grounds of Lang-Gan, letting finely carved jade accentuate the beauty of the night. And still others would, in the sacred groves of Arcadia, obtain golden boughs from oakwood. Before the rising of the sun, all desires to defy the heavens were born here. But, in the homeland chosen for the children of humankind by the Lord of the Eternal Heavens, moonlight was no more than a single strand of sacred grace. To probe the heavens was forbidden, for every quest beyond the appointed rules led only to destruction. Finally, when the long sword at the edge of the world cut across the sky, "Eternity" itself reached its end...

Once there was an age when, of the three silver wheels that guided the primal heavens, two had fallen. The world, no longer sheltered by "Eternity," marched toward its final breath, awaiting the return of the New Moon... When the "Eternal Moon" fell, the heavens and earth were thrown into chaos. When the "Iridescent Moon" shattered, the crimson shadow sank into the abyssal sea. When the "Frost Moon" ceased to turn, nations faltered and fell into ruin. But the primordial perfumed sea still rippled for the thousand lunar quakes that shook it each year, And the long ballad, woven from golden strings, never ceased, even when silver stars were cloaked in dust. Through the layers of the sky's veil, the people of the earth could not bask in true moonlight, Yet the tides of the river of time bound them together, come shadowed night or sunlit day. We trace the paths of stars, or descend the stairs of shallow slumber; Between sunrise and sundown we wander, seeking the answer behind the screen; Our hearts, no longer bound by Eternity, still stir — faint yet unceasing; In dreams between the eternal and the fleeting, we await the final hour offered to the moon.