Before the land was made, all the world was an ocean. The ocean caused to be brought forth from her depths the very first of the gods, and they lived in that time before light and form with the dark things, in the ocean’s depths. Among them was the creator who, with the ocean, would call forth the land and all life. Another of these very first gods of the world was known as the Traveler.

When there was little else but the ocean, no part of it could be told from another and all the creatures of the ocean were always becoming lost in its waters. Only the Traveler could move unerringly from one place to another, and the paths he made in the first ocean of the world were traced with silver. All the gods and the creatures of the ocean could follow them, and in this way one place could be told from another. Even the dark things used the Traveler’s paths, for the lady Night did not yet exist (much less the moon) and silver was not so inimical to them as it would one day become.

Of all the terrible things which lived in the ocean, there were none which troubled the Traveler. While it was true not even the dark things would be so rash as to cause him vexation, when it was only by his direction that any place could become known, even were this not the case, there were none in the ocean so fearsome as the Traveler himself. When his great, dark shape moved through the waters, all creatures would part before him. There were none who did not fear the Traveler, and none quite knew what consequences there might be for standing in his path, nor did they wish to learn.

But the Traveler was not pleased to be so feared. In all the world there he had no equals. Even the creator, who would one day set the sun in the sky, would not stand before the Traveler, and would have no place to work but for the Traveler’s silver lines. Thus the Traveler made the first of his familiars and called it Shark. He bestowed upon his creation something of his own fearsome likeness, so that Shark was as large and terrible as almost any of the dark things. And he bestowed upon it something of his knowledge of the ways of things, so that Shark would never become lost and would always be able to find the Traveler, wherever he was. As his last gift to his creation, the Traveler imparted some of his own manner, so that Shark had a mind of his own, a mind as dark and as unfathomable as the ocean’s depths, and one equally as silent.

The Traveler was well-pleased with Shark and all those sharks which were his descendants. They did not fear the Traveler, and though he knew they were not his equal, they never regarded him as their superior. They swam through all the ocean and brought stories from all places in the world to the Traveler.

The time would come when the creator raised the land and life from the ocean, and when this was done all the dark things left the ocean to prey upon the life and the land which they hated so much. Near all of the gods left the depths and many more new gods and new creatures sprang up from the land, so that in this new land was all manner of novelty and variety. Only the Traveler and a few others remained in the ocean. The Traveler stayed with his sharks, for the ocean was still vast and left much to be explored, and some few dark things stayed in the greatest depths, mush as some few living creatures preferred the ocean’s waters.

For many years more the Traveler lived in the ocean, and the more of the ocean he discovered, the more endless the life of the ocean grew. Even the wild flourishing of life upon the land could not compare to what creatures his silvery trails found. He traveled all the oceans of all the world, and even the ocean above the sky. The gods set the sun in the sky, and the lady Night was given her eye the moon and the stars of her cloak, and men spread across the whole world, and the dark things were chased into the ocean.

Still, the time came for the Traveler to leave the ocean. It was overly full of the dark things, and he tired of their hateful gurgling racket, and their wicked perversions of the life of the ocean and the land. Were he another sort of god, perhaps, he might have put an end to them, but his only wish was to gaze upon them no more. Thus the Traveler took a form not unlike that of men, and walked out of the ocean into the world the gods had made.

Though the Traveler looked much as other men, something of his countenance held the same terrible features as it had in the ocean, and to other men he looked as if he was not so different from a shark (when, in truth, it was the sharks who were not so different from him). The world he found was very different from his ocean save in one regard: there were no paths from any one place to another. Any time a man or a god wished to travel somewhere, they had to find out all anew how one might journey across the land, and go over all the same rivers and mountains as every other god or man had found before.

Thus the Traveler set about walking across all of the lands. Gravel shattered under his boots and all living things stood out of his way, so that even the trees in the forest moved to one side, and the mountains split in twain, and the rivers changed their courses where he walked. All creatures of the earth came to value the Traveler’s paths, and none wished to trouble him in the least but, even among those vicious men who might think such thoughts, no thoughts became deeds, for all feared to stand in the Traveler’s way. They did not know what consequences were to be had, and did not wish to learn them.

The Traveler found himself again in need of fellowship on the paths he walked, and he caused to be created Panther. Like the Traveler, Panther was dark and fearsome, and like the Traveler, he knew how to find hidden paths. As the Traveler, his amber eyes held a mind as bright and impossible to behold as the sun itself. The Traveler was well-please with Panther and all those panthers who would be his descendants. Panthers did not fear the Traveler, though all others feared the panthers nearly as much as the dark things, and the panthers traveled to all corners of the world to tell the Traveler what they saw.

It was not so many years before the Traveler had been across all the land of the earth, for the land was not limitless like the ocean. He saw many sights, and saw men and the earth grow older and sometimes wiser. In but the passing of a breath, men had learned to ride the horse, and in a dozen heartbeats he saw them lash machines of wood and iron to the beasts, and travel further and faster than any one man on foot. The Traveler made the owls his familiars, and cast them out across the lands to follow the horses and carriages of men. He would ride amongst these men, and on foot find the hidden paths of their cities, which became more grandiose with every passing breath.

The Traveler saw beasts which had the forms of men, and he saw men descended from beasts, long forgetting their ancestry. He saw the gods leave their chariot in the sky and watched the passing of winter. He saw how many of the gods waned, and how new gods were born or made. He walked among men, and some men walked beside him. They did not fear him, and those men who were unafraid had his favor on all the paths they walked.

As the cities of men grew, the Traveler saw the paths men made upon the earth grow too, and he felt his power waning. Those gods who had brought forth the land and life were no longer needed, or even remembered, and men were set hard to the task of finding even the most diligently hidden paths. Seeing that this was good, the Traveler determined he would lay where all men walked, and all men who sought the paths hidden and known would have to seek him or follow him or learn all of his nature they could. In this way the ancient god became known to men who has never known of such a god as the Traveler, even as they still did not know his name.

But there were those who the Traveler favored, who showed no fear, and who walked with him always. The oldest god took out his own heart and fashioned it into raw iron and fire. He placed his heart into those great and terrible machines used by men to travel their new roads, and thus he always traveled with those he favored. The beasts of the Traveler, though made by men, breathed fire and roared as fearsomely as his panthers, and they cruised his roads with the same dark menace of his sharks. No man, machine, or beast would bar their path, for they all felt the Traveler amongst them, and feared the consequences of standing in his way.