Myth of Mallandoor, Prince of Mortals, God of Death.

Mallandoor was the youngest of the four sons of God.

His voice taught the birds their songs.

The touch of his gentle fingers formed the flowing streams that nourished the lands.

From him came forth all growing green.

He knew each seedling’s name.

The creatures followed him, for he cared for them.

Yet his brothers taunted and insulted him, for in exchange for his caring heart, he was weak among his brothers, and little was his power.

They said it was a curse on their father that he had made such a son.

They said Mallandoor was a babe who would never grow up, and it was shame on them to have him as a brother.

They hated him for what he had, though they might have had it for themselves if they would have chosen a tender heart, in place of power; but they were seekers of power. The thought of choosing the heart of healing rather than the sword of might was far below them.

It was not enough for them to make taunt and despise Mallandoor, to hold themselves above him, to treat him as though he were not even one of them.

Elthandoor, the third born of the sons of God, the second youngest of the brothers, sought other ways to hurt his youngest brother. Thus he tormented Mallandoor’s creatures.

Though gentle and caring, when enraged Mallandoor was fierce. Thus he drew his swords (blazing with the light of the burning dawn) and threw himself upon his brother with all the fierceness of deadly battle.

But for all his passion Mallandoor was weak, and soon found himself helpless and wounded.

All three of his brothers came to laugh at his weakness.

They called him weak and ridiculous, and had no love or pity.

But Mallandoor would not let his bother hurt his creatures and leave them undefended.

He went to his father again and again, falling on his knees and begging that his brother should be stopped from tormenting his creatures, but his father paid no head.

The sons of God could travel freely wherever they wished on the world, but about the rim of the world was a darkness into which they could not step. After tormenting Mallandoor’s creatures, Elthandoor threw them into this darkness.

Though in Mallandoor’s touch was the power of healing, he could do nothing for those of his creatures whom his brother threw into the darkness outside the world.

Mallandoor could not bear that but one of his creature should be outside the power of his care. Thus he was determined that he would somehow find a way to pass into the darkness outside the world, and bring back his creatures. He knew his brothers desired power more than anything else. If he was to get anything from them, he must trade it for power, but he had no power to trade, no power save that very power that was the blood his life.

Could he, could he trade his very life, for a power the living were not granted, for a power even his brothers would never have?

He knew his touch held, in place of the power of might, the infinitely greater power of healing. He knew that he himself was sufficient for his creatures, to be their very life and world.

Thus as Mallandoor was looking into the darkness beyond the reach even of his care, the darkness he would give his life to enter, it was revealed to him what he must do.

He turned on his heels, a song dancing in his heart, the first song that had danced within him since the day he had fought his brother, since the day he had lost the first of his creatures, for he now knew he would have them back. He would heal all their pain, and comfort them forever, but it would come at a price- A price no god, save he would dare to pay, yet he would pay it freely, as freely as though it were no price at all. For so was the fierceness of his determination to be with his lost creatures that he might heal and comfort them.

Thus the youngest prince of god knelt on one knee upon the sacred platform of the dance of the stars (where was the meeting place of the four sons of God) and unsheathing his golden sword, which danced with the light of the burning dawn, laid its blade upon his own thigh, across the scar of the wound he had received from his brother on the day the joy of life had been taken from him. Thus he drew his own sword across his thigh, and filled a vial with the blood of the wound.

When his brothers came Mallandoor said thus to them.

“I will give to you this vial of the power in my blood, which is mine to grant, and will give to you the power of my life, which none can take from me apart my free giving, if you do for me but one thing, that our father should grant me but one request whatever it be.”

Thus they agreed.

And this was Mallandoor’s request.

That he be granted passage into the darkness outside the world, and that every creature be granted the choice to come to him, and that this might never (on the honor of creation) be taken from even one creature, but all should be free to come to him, and nothing ever should hold them back, no matter anything.

Thus Mallandoor was granted his request, and crowned the victor. Thus he traded life for death, for thus the fourth son of god became the prince of mortals. And thus were all creatures made mortal.

Thus the god of care and love became the god of death.

Death’s own touch has promised me . . .

The god who is Death, and for whom death was made, is himself the god of care and comfort-

It was said his touch was cruel, feared more than even pain

It was said he bore his victims to the place of endless loss and mourning

To the place of endless darkness

Where no light might ever reach

But when he bore me in his arms, whispered gently through my hair

All pain was gone forever

In perfect peace I rested and knew his name is Love

His voice is softer then the summer winds

His arms forever are my home

This now I know, and never can forget

I’ll never fear again the name of deepest darkness

For Death’s own touch has promised me

That love still rules the end

This I tell to all you living and you dying

That love still rules the end

That Death’s true voice is morning’s song

That Death’s own hands will heal all our wounds

Unite us all in love

That in Death’s own heart lives Love’s own blessed perfect caring name

-He will never leave us or forsake us, never let us be lost, never leave us unloved and alone, for he loves us so.