The Tears of Mixaq

And it was after the illusion of Mixaq that Skivrend had been dealt a mighty blow by Roitaven’s hand. The two Goddesses, one of Illusion the other of Void, fled to the depths of the world to the dark gate: The Passage to the Void. Their refuge yawned before them. And as Skivrend reached its black waters, Mixaq knelt down on the bank. It was Mixaq’s trickery that drove Roitaven’s rage and it was in his rage that her mother was injured. She was wracked with guilt and remorse, tears falling from her eyes to her beautiful robes.

“Please, mother darkness, I cannot bear to see you turned away from me with such ire. You have never had such anger towards me, your kin, your creation. Would you not look at me and assuage my lament?”

Yet Mixaq’s words, always coaxing, fell without reaction. Skivrend did not turn. She did not acknowledge her daughter. Yet still Mixaq pleaded for comfort.

“My mother, let me know what I must do to hear your comfort. Give me a goal, a mission to redeem your love.”

And it was only then that Skivrend spoke.

“Leave me and do not return.” She said in reply.

Mixaq was laid low. She pleaded and wept that she was forever penitent and that Skivrend not drive her away.

“The illusion I made was too weak for such a being, I know this now, mother! Do not send me away!”

Skivrend turned to face Mixaq. The ethereal energies dripped like black mist from her wounded face, and her eyes burned like purple opals.

“You will GO! And you will not return until the time that my darkness would cover ALL and the light of Roitaven and all his stars are snuffed out.”

The ire and malice in the words as they poured forth from Skivrend’s mouth drew Mixaq back and she departed then from the shores of the passage. Mixaq was driven wayward while Skivrend brooded within her dark chambers.


As Mixaq passed through the world, she could still hear Roitaven’s rage in the distance, far across the expanse. Massive explosions and fires broke before the God’s ire so hot she could feel their warmth from great celestial distances. She avoided the light and avoided the pure dark; she was in-between. She traveled alone for a long time until she found a place where the stars were young and cold. Bits of floating rock and asteroid floated freely and solemnly in these far reaches.

And it was so that Mixaq found among the debris, on the edge of it all, a planet of black sands with stars so brilliant that the sky shimmered like crystal. She explored this world and found herself awed by its dark and shifting beauty. When she felt that her wandering was done, she knelt by a flowing spring atop a high mountain. She gazed upon the edge of the waters, memories of her mother flooding her mind, and she began to weep again in spite of herself. Her tears dropped to the spring, and sweet, sad illusions danced across the surface in rainbows.

Then a voice came to the goddess.

“Why is it that one weeps, who is weeping?”

She spoke into the water.

“I am weeping.”

“Why do you weep?” said the spring.

“Because I have hurt my Mother.”

The lake showed Skivrend, her anger, and her wound. The lake showed Mixaq her own pain and her own desires. The death of Roitaven and the fires of his demise quenched into the ether.

And as she looked she recognized her own illusions drawing her into the lake.

But because the powers of the lake were her own, from her own tears, she knew their trickery and turned away, frightened that she would be sucked into the spring by her grief. She began to move across the sands once more while the waters pleaded for her to return.

This spring has ever since been known as the tears of Mixaq and it is from these waters that all nourishment of plant and animal across the sands of Mirraa were sourced.


As the goddess wandered in her grief once more she impacted into something.

She fell and beheld standing over her a hard metal creature. It turned with the sound of whirring gears and clattering parts.

Sitting atop a small throne, illuminated by floating sheets of data screens on a series of mechanical legs was a grotesque creature. The being in the throne wore large spectacles and seemed to have been occupied by a rock still clutched in his gangly hands. He lifted his spectacles and, revealing a curious and emotive face, beheld Mixaq.

“You ran into me.” Said the mechanic.

Mixaq quickly rose and brushed some of the black dust from her cloak of silver eyes.

“So I did.” She glared at the slug in his throne. “So who, or what, are you? Were you sent by the fire god to kill me?”

“What? Who? Me? No no no, I don’t know who or what or where the fire god might be, I have important work to do. The rocks here could make an excellent alloy if treated right, just add a bit of heat and maybe some tin, yes tin should do it and some….hmm.”

It was over the course of his speech that the mechanic’s attentions returned to inspecting the rock in his hands.

Mixaq snapped, drawing his attention. “Who are you then?”

“Oh, forgive me, I am Foolnool.” WIth an articulate pulling of levers and pressing of buttons, Foolnool bowed the legs of the machine in a polite curtsy.

So it is said.

By Jason Pratley

Jason Pratley joined the team sometime in 2013 when he created the concepts for the gods of ODR. He has since become the Writing Director and de facto loremaster for DDG. Check out some other stories and content at and