1I realised after I wrote this that it gives quite a bleak and negative outlook on several things but I hope that it doesn't detract from the writing. As always, feel free to let me know what you think in a review or PM. :)
The dark sky held the shining orb of the moon hovering over the sea. Stars shone like crushed diamonds that had been carelessly scattered over blue-black velvet by the Gods. Below, a roaring ocean was headed by beautiful horses of ghostly white, galloping over the waves below leaving an ethereal glow in their wake as they made for the shore and then tumbled over themselves into the blue depths as dark as the centre of a vast sapphire. More horses formed across the water and eventually, they too tumbled down again, to be reborn far back from that ever-elusive shore.
This cycle continued for many moons. It was the sanctuary, the space between what was mortal and immortal, and a sacred place that neither side were willing to disrupt for fear of their destruction. The Gods relied on the needs of the mortals they tended to for their power and potency, and the mortals needed their immortal deities to protect them and keep the order of the land in balance.
In reality, they both should have known that this truce would not last.
Mortal desires stretch far beyond their boundaries, they grow tired of their lowly status and wish to become equal to their far more powerful protectors. Disruptions began as small uprisings, but soon they spilled into the peace of the sanctuary and the balance was broken. Equally, the Gods grew weary of the predictable passing of time – they sought change and excitement. War became an inevitability and as the humans began to challenge the Gods, they fought back. Knowing their power would be vastly depleted, their final act before their demise was to create a new race - the Pegasus.
Pooling their power, the Gods empowered and freed the ghostly horses of the sanctuary, allowing them to reach the previously unattainable shore. Born of the sea and light as the air, they were graceful beings with large wings, pure white coats and deep blue eyes.
Once gone, the Gods never returned to the world of mortals, their power never again felt by the fragile world they had created. At first, the mortals had no concept of the damage they had done, they felt strong and confident in their actions for they had won and bested the Gods. They wanted to destroy the sanctuary and remove all memory of the Gods' existence.
They were stopped by the Pegasus to begin with, who fought hard and well to keep their home a place of peace. For some mortals, the sight alone of the Pegasus was enough to calm their bloodthirsty thoughts. For even more mortals, the beauty of the sanctuary was what turned their thoughts. Despite this, not all were placated. Many still continued to plot the demise of the sanctuary to finalise their defeat of the Gods.
Using the wisdom the Gods had created them with, the mortals began to advance and develop. Time passed where the conflict was almost forgotten and the sanctuary was left untouched, allowing the Pegasus to care for it without fear.
Thousands of years passed, the mortals of the beginning had become shadows of the mortals of the present. The sanctuary and the Pegasus became mere myths and legends to many. There were some though, whose ancestors had ensured the hatred for the perfect peace of the sanctuary was not forgotten – a thorn in their side, a reminder of their flaws, an embodiment of their lack of control of the world the Gods had made. These mortals would not rest until it was torn away and ripped from the heart of the world.
Using the many things they had created over time, the mortals made machines that gave them power over other creatures they lived alongside. They took these things to the sanctuary, overwhelmed the unprepared Pegasus whose beauty and elegance were no longer a source of amazement to the mortals. They bound the Pegasus and bent them to their will. Gradually the Pegasus lost their wings. Their colours changed. Their beauty and power was stripped from them. The mortals had done more than destroy the Pegasus, they had twisted them and re-shaped them – an attempt to mimic the power of the Gods. The Pegasus ceased to be a sacred race, full of wisdom and grace and the ancient protectors of the sanctuary. Instead, they were servants to the mortals and, like the Gods, destined to be extinguished. The sanctuary was desecrated, the dark blue ocean polluted and turned a dark, ugly grey, the velvet sky became a smothering blanket of shadow and rain.
They both should have known that a truce would not last, and that the mortals would not accept their boundaries, the Gods had made them to think and explore, expand and develop. Naively, they thought that the mortals would only progress in a positive way which resulted in their downfall.
Now the tale is told as a myth, an ancient explanation of the beginning – a simple way to explain the complexities of the world. The mortals do not remember their part in the shaping of this world that they had so craved, and fought so hard for. Instead they have regressed to the ways of the beginning, believing that a higher power has created their world and is controlling it from afar now that they have seen the product of their greed and destroyed all that once was good.