Once the Holurs had seen their strength and had filled the worlds of Elgverden with fire, they became weary. And they decided to give a name to every thing in the world.
For they did thirst to become like unto the Wisest, who had melted in the First Light.
Then Sófaþek-king, warrior of the Throne of Wisdom, arose among them.
And he did sit on his throne, which had space enough for three, yet sat he alone.
And he did speak to the Holurs, and his speech became like unto a river, without beginning and without end.
The Holurs listened long unto the speech of Sófaþek-king, but of his speeches there was no end.
And Sófaþek-king said that what was, was not
, and what was not, was
He said that a lung was no lung, and the firmament, no firmament.
That no spear could be called a spear, no ax could be called an ax, and the trees that grew from the firmament, could not be called trees.
And the Holurs were in accord with him, with nods of their heads of slight stature.
And Sófaþek-king said that a sword is no sword.
And the swords that had been given ... could only be created by the maiden whose lot to paint her face in silver and rouge.
And lo, Gloom did come.
He asked the wise Warrior of the Throne of Wisdom, how to Name what they, the Holurs, saw in the worlds, things loud and soft, things hot and cold.
And once more did Sófaþek-king speak, in rivers of speech.
And the Holurs could not grasp the meaning of his speech, thus they did decide that Sófaþek-king was the wisest among them.
They left him there to speak, and turned their gazes to the worlds of Elgverden.
The first to name a name was Tuskel.
And Tuskel named the Foundation, and the Heavens, and lo, he said Words.
And he vanished with a cry, for the light of his flame had gone out, and his Words.
In those days, Gloom was in Sparksvaard, world of the Lungs.
And behold, he saw a small child of the Lungs pluck a flower, laugh, and call the flower by a name.
But disappear the child did not. Indeed, the spark of the small Lung blazed all the brighter.
And thus the Holurs perceived, that to Name, one needed both Spark and Flame, which belonged only to the Wisest, and whose particles were possesed by Svefnii, who was shrouded in dark sleep.
Hence the Holurs hated the Lungs more than ever before.
For the Lungs, now the Götlungs, had the power to Name. Yet the Holurs, though created in the image and likeness of the Wise Ones, did not.
Thus did the Sisters of the Reaping first come to Sparksvaard.
And each spark gathered by the Sisters was a Word.
These Words did light the Flame in the Holurs for a time.
But that time did not last forever [...]
from scrolls found in the ruins of Bladetpalm
and translated by a venerable master
Jacques-Reinard Jr., Belogorodsky
*Possible mistakes in translation, or the words that have no analogs in the tongue of ours replaced by the closest possible ones by their meanings are in italics (note by originator and/or translator)