Taleese and Tyleena were created by magic, and accident.

The God Impi, God of War, of battle madness and blood rage hated Pi’ran, the God of Thought, of curiosity and experiment. They fought terribly. Impi often left Pi’ran near death, he could not kill his brother god, so he left him unmoving, broken and bleeding at every interaction. Each time Pi’ran would heal and he would warn Impi, “There will come a day older brother, when I will replace you. When men will not seek you, but seek me instead.” Impi laughed and would attack his brother once more.

Time moved. Men learned. They began to create weapons. First knives for butchering meat were attached to long stout sticks and used as spears, pitchforks for farming, were converted into weapons. Men experimented, they grew, they made poisons.  As the people gathered together, they learned to negotiate, they learned to harness their anger and speak instead of fight. When there were battles they were less often the same blood drenched battles of the early times but battles between intelligent men and individual warriors. Those who favored rage formed their own enclaves, often excluded from the majority of society.

The people learned the secret names of the Gods and Goddesses that served the Great One in the Sky and were granted power.

Impi continued to abuse Pi’ran and Pi’ran continued to chastise Impi. As time progressed Impi’s beatings became more savage but less effective. Pi’ran would stand and smirk in his brother’s face. He dodged and weaved avoiding his brother’s blows which enraged Impi further.

Impi, all the gods, possessed magic and in his anger he began to strike at Pi’ran with magic. Pi’ran did not strike back, he would simply say to Impi, ”There will come a day older brother, when I will replace you. When men will not seek you, but seek me instead.” Impi no longer laughed at the words.

“You must fight him,” Iwa Ibi would tell him as she nursed him back to health. She felt torn between the two. As the Goddess of loyalty she would not abandon Pi’ran as many of the other had because of his perceived weakness.  She had no desire to fall into the same fate as Pi’ran however, and worried at her standing. Her marriage to Impi had been prophesied, but she bristled at the idea of prophecy and did what she could to avoid him.  Her nature tore at her; she stood as the Goddess of Loyalty, but also as the Goddess of Mischief and the two sides of her never felt balanced.

Mortals learned their magics, they experimented and grew. The fighting continued, with Impi’s power plateauing and Pi’ran’s power growing. The earth shook and the water boiled and mortal’s feared as the two gods raged. Pi’ran no longer passively stood for the beating. He fought back. The mortal’s learning made him strong and quick. The mortals thought, and learned, and taught and experimented and so he grew strong on their lives and actions.

Pi’ran laughed as Impi attacked him. He danced between blows and laughed at the anger in his brother’s face. “I warned you Impi. I warned you brother. I do not know why you hate me, but you do and so here we are,” Pi’ran danced away from another blow toward his head angering Impi further. Sparks flickered in Impi’s hands and Pi’ran turned his head to the side.

“Is that what we are doing then?” he asked and the smile slipped from his face.

The fighting began in earnest now. Pi’ran fought defensively, dodging away from sizzling balls of lightning flung from his brother; sending his own streaking, crackling weapons at Impi. Below them and around them the sky burned. The other gods heard the cries from the mortals below and begged the two to cease their fighting, but none of them could be heard over the sounds of the storm. Days passed, the skies grew darker, night reigned and green-blue-purple streaks of energy raced across the sky.

“Enough! The two of you, enough!” Iba-Iwa yelled running between the two battling gods. “You are shredding the sky and the ground is boiling beneath the feet of the mortals. Are you both so determined to win that you will leave nothing left to sustain you?”

In their rage however they did not hear her. They did not see her.

Two boiling bursts of crackling blue-purple lightning energy burned into her stomach. Iba-Iwa dropped to the ground, unmoving and breathing heavily.

The two gods froze in their tracks. The energy burning through the skies stopped. Both gods rushed to her side ignoring their erstwhile enemy. They lifted her gingerly and carry her slowly back to her home.  Laying her on her bed, her breathing evened and the color bega to return to her face. The pale pasty grey sheen of her normally deep brown skin began to clear. Her eyes flickered but never open. Her stomach expanded and grew. The men sat beside her for days, each day her stomach grew, her eyes moved, but never opened. A month passed, two, three months passed and neither man left her side. They did not eat. They did not sleep. They watched as Iba-Iwa slept, and struggled. They watched as her stomach grew.

In dark of the night, when the stars were the brightest Iba-Iwa screamed. She convulsed and bolted straight, screams echoing into the night. Both men grabbed a hand and the stars in the sky went dark. For a moment, a brief heartbeat of the universe, the stars went out and the world plunged into dark. The gods looked up, bewildered as the mortals below, as two moons appeared in the sky. Deep purple and searing blue light glowed softly from the moons.

Iba-Iwa blinked. She shook in confusion. She lifted two small masses from her bed between her legs and grimaced. She handed each to a man at her side.

Both men looked down in amazement at the two small forms in their massive hands. Two sets of eyes opened. Each had a blue eye and a purple eye. They both smiled, pink gummy smiles at the giant men holding them.

Purple blue light sizzled in the infant’s hands. They giggled as two new moons danced in the sky.