“A thousand years, I said I would return to judge them. A thousand years have passed, and they still have not learned to live with the land,” said Bilé.
The deity sat on the ancient altar stone. Once protected by a grove of sacred oaks, it now lay exposed.
“Even the grove is gone. They must have known what this would mean,” said Bilé.
Though small in stature, Bilé’s power could decimate the land if he so desired.
“Why must I pity these fools? Have I not given them a chance?” asked the deity.
Closing his eyes, Bilé whispered a word, “Darkness,” then faded into the night.
The following morning, the sun failed to rise, and the next as well. Soon the land lay bare and lifeless.
The fires came, burning home and field, leaving nothing but ashes and charred bone.
Then the snows came, wrapping the land in a white blanket of sleep.
On the first day of the Winter Solstice, the sun returned—a cold yellow orb floating above the land.
In the Spring, the grasses returned. Those who had buried themselves deep in the earth emerged to find a green world.
Bilé returned and smiled at what he saw.
“This is yours now. Do with it what you will. But to stray from the path invites my wrath and the calling of the darkness,” said Bilé. He then faded into the morning mist.
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