Maua, a deity of creation, who for far too long was left alone within the universe, constantly plagued with vision. With a beautiful world of amazing sights and grandiose wonders in mind, Maua crafted a land in which to call their own. Seas sunk deep into fresh earth and mountains rose high into bright blue skies. Grass grew lush, trees dense and plenty. Fresh water snaked its way from the mountains to the seas. Maua looked upon their world with pride, and yet their loneliness still persisted. Though their world was marvelous, it was empty -- and thus Maua was empty. But because all of their energy had been consumed by their act of creation, it was with a heavy heart that Maua fell into a deep slumber.

Many uncountable years passed before Maua would wake again. Their land had remained unchanged in its beauty, and Maua walked upon it happily. Yet, there was still a loneliness within the deity that left them disheartened -- for why have such a magnificent home if there was no one to share it with?

And so, Maua got straight to work in creating creatures in their own image. Unfortunately, this new life could only be born into a state of youth, a state where Maua could not properly raise their children. Maua could not bare to watch them die a slow and lonely death and, once again, the deity grew disheartened.

With reluctance, Maua chose to leave their world behind, though this was only temporary. They travelled into other realms, seeking purpose and fulfillment beyond the walls of Amaryllis. Maua found a world full of beauty and elegance, much like their own. But with a twist - life! True life! This world was brimming with creatures of all shapes, colours, and sizes, yet all managed to coexist in a balance that Maua had never witnessed before. The deity desired such life in their own realm, in the hopes that they could watch it develop, and grow, and live a life of beauty.

It was not long until Maua crafted a plan that would once again consume all of their energy. They focused all of their powers on bringing their world to this one, merging them together with one another, with the goal of coexistence. But their power was not enough to complete the entirety of the merge, in the way that they had envisioned. They were left with a bridge linking the two together, stretching out far across the ocean, with a heavy mist engulfing the entrance to Maua’s world. But how would any of the creatures find their way? Maua’s heart ached as they were filled with the thought of failure. But for now, there was nothing more that Maua could do. All that was left was to rest, and once again, Maua succumbed to an all-consuming slumber.

While Maua slept, life managed to find its way into the newly-arrived lands. A dangerous journey was rewarded with scenery so perfect and so sustaining that life found no reason to leave, and so they settled and planted roots. With many more years having come and gone, Maua arose again. They were determined to finish what they had started -- yet to their surprise, life had beaten the odds, and Maua fell into joyous days.

The deity removed the mist from their land's borders, but after learning the importance of balance, decided to leave the bridge intact. It was only perhaps but a day’s journey to reach Maua’s land, which was lovingly named Amaryllis.

Maua continued to periodically travel outside of Amaryllis, but not every trip brought beauty to Maua’s eyes. On occasion, these outings brought the deity to lands plagued by destruction, illness, and war. These occurrences tore at Maua’s heart, who found great sorrow in the spreading plague of violence and calamity in the world. But shortly after, the deity crafted a plan to save all those who sought a miracle and a second chance.

Spirits were then born into the lands of Amaryllis, ethereal guides of peace and promise that were intended to lead the weary into Maua’s protective fold. These guides appeared stronger for those more intune with the spiritual realm, yet even for those with no such practice, the words of Maua echoed strongly within the dreams of those who needed to hear them most.

In the whispered corners of Amaryllis, where shadows dance between sunbeams, a forgotten power stirred. It began as mere echoes in the minds of those who draw breath —fleeting visions that crept into dreams, voices that whispered ancient truths in the dark. Soon, these fragments coalesced into something more tangible: Kivuli, the Shadow, emerged from the realm of myth into reality.

Kivuli appeared as a magnificent yet unsettling sight—a lion whose majesty was matched by mystery. Horns seemed to curve from their head like twisted branches reaching for the moon, and their mouth always held a knowing smile, as if privy to some unknown jest. Their very presence seemed to blur the line between light and shadow, substance and void.

This deity brought with them a shocking claim: that Amaryllis had been theirs first, before Maua's reign. Their words shook the foundations of faith itself, challenging the sacred belief that Maua was the land's first and true creator. But the truth, as often happens, lie buried in deeper, darker soil.

Few knew the true history: how Maua had forged Amaryllis from the fragments of other realms, in the aftermath of a cosmic collision of powers. Some lands had burned, fallen away, and disappeared. In that ancient time, Maua's victory had cast Kivuli into a slumber so deep that generations passed, and their name faded from memory like morning mist before the sun.

But where there is light, there must be shadows and shadows have a way of persisting. Kivuli's first awakening shook Amaryllis to its core, their battle with Maua sending tremors through the very fabric of reality. Only through the united strength of Maua's faithful was the shadow-deity forced back into slumber, though this rest would prove shorter than the last.

When Kivuli rose again, they came with a different strategy. Rather than seeking destruction, they turned their attention to the Scorched Wilds—lands that still held echoes of their ancient connection. Under their influence, these barren wastes began to transform. Vegetation burst forth from dead soil, and life returned to places long thought lost. The lions of these territories, witnessing this renaissance, found their loyalties divided between the creator they knew and the restorer who offered new hope.

Now Kivuli dwells in the spaces between—neither fully present nor truly absent. They find curious delight in observing the lives that unfold in their contested realm, their laughter sometimes carried on evening breezes. From the shadows they watch, learn, and wait, their true intentions are known only to themselves.

Some say that on nights when the moon is hidden, you can see Kivuli's horned silhouette against the stars, their sly smile a reminder that even the most ancient truths may hold surprising secrets. The balance between Maua and Kivuli remains delicate, their ancient conflict now transformed into a subtle dance of influence and power, with Amaryllis and its inhabitants caught in between. Where there is light, there are shadows, and you can’t enjoy the light without the shadows.