The Wheel of the Gods
The Gods
The gods are real. Most people accept this. They have appeared throughout history—rarely, but undeniably. Not to conquer or command, but to respond. Sometimes a priest’s desperate plea is answered. Sometimes a visionary sees a divine figure in a dream. And occasionally, a god walks the earth for reasons unknown. But it’s always distant. Mysterious. The gods do not rule the world, nor do they speak with one voice. They exist, and they are watching—maybe.
No god is purely good or evil. The benevolent and malevolent labels are more cultural than factual. It’s not “light vs. dark,” it’s growth and shelter versus decay and destruction—both parts of the cycle. And every culture interprets that cycle differently. What one society calls a benevolent storm god, another might view as a destructive force of vengeance. The line between sacred and profane is flexible.
The god of time, whoever or whatever they are, is considered the oldest and most mysterious. Some say they are the sum of all the others. Some say they merely keep the wheel turning. Whatever the case, their presence anchors the pantheon, and their worship tends to be more philosophical than ritualistic.
Worship and Practice
Religion is decentralized. There is no universal church, no global council of priests. Worship is localized, personal, and adaptive. Most people offer prayers to different gods depending on their needs. A farmer might give offerings to a fertility goddess in the spring and to a death god during winter to protect their family. A sailor might pray to a god of storms for safe passage, or to a malevolent sea god to spare them.
Some cultures maintain grand temples and organized clergy. Others see gods as spirits, ancestors, or forces of nature. Heresies, sects, and splinters are common. In some places, the gods are myth. In others, they’re a guiding force behind the state. You’ll find holy orders devoted to specific gods, dualistic cults focused on rival pairs, or even regions that shun half the pantheon entirely.
History and Mystery
What people don’t know is vast. History stretches back thousands of years, but only the last two millennia are reasonably documented. Everything before that is fragmented, speculative, or completely lost. Religion has evolved a dozen times over, with new gods rising in prominence and old ones fading into obscurity. And because the gods themselves rarely clarify anything, truth and legend blur.
The old myths say the gods shaped the world. Others say they found it and adopted it. Some cultures claim the gods created mortals, while others teach that mortals were born from the world itself and only later found the gods. Every theory has its champions—and its critics.
The world knows thirteen gods. Twelve govern the cycles of existence—creation and decay, light and shadow, order and chaos—and the Thirteenth stands apart: the Keeper of Time.
The oldest accounts claim that when the Twelve first began to shape the heavens and the earth, their differing wills threatened to tear creation apart. The Keeper wove their actions into rhythm, binding their powers into sequence so that every beginning would carry its own ending, and every ascent its decline. Through this, the world gained continuity. Through this, balance endured.
The Twelve are divided in nature but not in purpose. Those called the Benevolent guide the flourishing of life—growth, renewal, and harmony. Those known as the Malevolent preside over decline—entropy, hunger, and transformation. To the common mind, they are opposites; to the wise, they are two halves of the same design. Where the Benevolent build, the Malevolent unmake, and in their motion the universe persists.
The Keeper of Time stands between them. He is neither judge nor ruler. He does not command; he observes, measures, and corrects. When the balance shifts too far, he draws excess into himself, restoring equilibrium. Many texts describe this act as a burden rather than a gift—the endless labor of keeping all things in motion without favor or rest.
Across the world, faiths give different shape to this order. Some see the Twelve as siblings bound to eternal work, their conflict generating the flow of time itself. Others claim the Keeper was the first god, from whom the Twelve were born. A few hold that he will be the last, who will close the cycle when harmony fails.
Whatever the story, all traditions agree on one point: the Keeper is impartial. His silence is the sign of his power. He answers no prayer, yet all events unfold within the current he sustains. When fortune or misfortune comes without cause, it is said to be his unseen hand, restoring the rhythm of the world.
For this reason, his presence is acknowledged everywhere. Grand temples honor the Twelve, but even the smallest homes keep a place for him—a clock, an hourglass, a bowl of still water. His name is spoken when seasons turn, when years begin and end, when a life enters or leaves the world. Not in supplication, not in fear, but in recognition of the quiet order that underlies all things.