I thought this was obvious, given that Bollikin became all different types of furrikin (certainly, he wasn't some eerie amalgam of turtles, squirrels, foxes, bears, etc etc etc etc etc).

Well, if Xyl and Trillillial really did love each other.... then maybe trills are the shards of Xyl and lucidians are the shards of Trillillial?!

Well, if Xyl and Trillillial really did love each other.... then maybe trills are the shards of Xyl and lucidians are the shards of Trillillial?!

Bollikin was the first, of course, and the memory of that event still
sent quakes through my crystalline structure. When Bollikin splintered,
the scream of Tae shook the entire First World, even driving the
Soulless away as they thought we had unleashed some new weapon.

We all came running to Tae and found him surrounded by thousands of tiny
beings, each one responding to the name of Bollikin. Tae was trying to
gather them all to himself.

"What have you done, little friend?" Tae kept crying.

"I'm sorry, dear Tae," they kept answering in chorus.

Mind = blown

The idea that souls can be split in half, to explain increasing population, makes me think of the Minbari philosophy from Babylon 5. They believed in reincarnation too, with the souls of each generation born into the next generation. The concern arose that these souls were spread thinner in each generation, so that each generation was less than the one before it -- the leaders, the poets, the scientists in each generation were not as impressive as the previous. Lusternia could run up against the same idea, though for a different reason. (For the Minbari, their total population was pretty steady, but they were losing souls by having them reborn in another race, so they believed. For Lusternia, it's because of the same amount of total soul being spread over a larger number of mortals.)

"The History of the Elder Wars", By the Scribe of the Elders (Page 16)
BOOK OF MERIDIAN

I knew I would find him there.

Dracnoris was perched on the lip of the Zokona Volcano, tendrils of
smoke and steam swirling around his enormous form. He gazed intently
into the fiery well, his golden-red scales gleaming against the waves of
heat. I had to wrap a dampening field around myself just to draw near
him.

As I settled next to Dracnoris, he glanced at me, then went back to
staring into the swirling magma below. We sat silently beside each
other, buffeted by the waves of heat.

"Are you going to splinter?" I asked.

"You still wait for me," Dracnoris rumbled. "Waiting for me to splinter
so you can make sure my shards will be dispersed across Lusternia."

"Will you?" I asked softly.

"I am not sure yet," he said. "I am not a star god. What would I
splinter into?"

"I do not know," I said.

"Perhaps the same thing will happen to me as what happened to Eyos."

I did not say anything. We frankly were never sure what happened to
Eyos, another Primordial One who splintered. His shards were never
found.

"And if I choose not to splinter?" Dracnoris asked, sending rocks
tumbling to splash in the molten soup below. "Will you remain whole,
Meridian? Will you and I be protectors of these mortal races as we have
been for these last thousand years since Mugowumpois, Xyl and Trill left
us?"

"If need be," I said.

"Why do you persist? Amberle has been long gone, but each day you act as
if it is your penance to remain here with me. Why don't you splinter.
Are your memories so important?"

"Do you wish to forget?" I asked

"No! Why would I want to? I have no desire to give up my identity, to
never again have the sense of who I am . Perhaps it is cowardice. To
want to hold on to this perspective that is myself. And lose it for
what? Perhaps to become a mortal race, to subsume my identity among the
many shards. Do you yearn to forget, Meridian?"

"I do and I don't," I said "I wish to forget the pain but all that is
left of my love for Amberle is my memories of us together."

As Dracnoris looked at me, his green eyes watered, like emerald ice
melting. He raised himself up, and shook his wings.

"Yes," he said simply. "I will splinter."

With a sudden roar, Dracnoris spread his wings and dove into the roiling
lava pool below. As soon as he hit the surface, great plumes of lava
shot up. The mountain rumbled and fiery balls spit up into the air. I
strengthened my shield and stayed to witness his splintering.

From the top of his neck to the tip of his tail, Dracnoris split in two,
out of which bubbled his shimmering green essence. The essence spurt
forth smaller winged forms, miniature versions of Dracnoris. They flew
into the air, spinning and screeching with their newborn voices. As each
one shot out of the volcano, they paused briefly before me and nodded.
Hundreds rose up, circling the volcano that continued to erupt with
furious explosions of rock and magma. The shards circled around like a
flock of birds, then broke apart into four groups that drifted off in
each of the cardinal directions. Thus, were the dragons born.

As the volcano eruption died down, I noticed the skin of Dracnoris still
floated in the lava pool, foaming with a green luminescence. It slowly
drifted and washed up onto a rocky ledge.

Then, something amazing happened, another race began to splinter from
this final pool of essence. And they were star shaped, a new race.
Finally, Dracnoris would know what it would be to be star formed. I
hoped he would be disappointed.

Later, as I spread the dracnari race throughout the world, I would
occasionally come across one of the four dragon clans. They were much
longer lived than the rest of the mortal races, for their aging was so
slow, perhaps they'd have a lifespan of centuries. Thus, the memories of
Dracnoris were more intact, for these giants remembered more of who they
once were than any other splintered race. Such powerful creatures, I
imagined they would challenge the Soulless. But dragons could not go
through the Portal of Fate, and they were slow to procreate so their
numbers never increased at any relevant rate. Also, they rarely
interacted with any other race except the dracnari, and even them
rarely.

I never realized how much Dracnoris and I kept each other in check, how
I had grown to rely upon his advice, his thoughts, his company. Without
him I was lost, rudderless, without perspective. My only intent was to
protect the mortal races, but how spread out they were now, and how
relentlessly the Soulless remained. I learned being the last of one's
kind breeds a deep pain born of loneliness. It was out of this
melancholy that I became rash, filled with a false courage born of
carelessness.

It was only a matter of time before I fell into a trap. The City of
Lamerea was recently settled by a group of taurians. Like many mortal
cities, they held a golden horn that would call me if in need. When the
Horn of Lamerea blasted, I rushed forth, riding on the wind. Arriving, I
saw thousands of auras of taurian citizens, so I landed in the town
square. They were all around me, reflections of Tauro, large eyed and
hot tempered. But I knew something was wrong when turned and looked at
me in unison. There was a hollowness behind their eyes. I smelled
something burnt and damp shifting beneath the surface.

Suddenly, the taurians began split apart, exploding in fountains of
blood and bone and flesh, which twined together and rose up around me as
a bloody net. The souls of the taurians still clung to the fleshy net,
like flies caught in the web. It was none other than Kethuru, whose
underlying pervasive presence held the screaming souls together, bound
by his black hatred.

Casting domotheon spears of light, I burnt through Kethuru's foul skin,
but as soon as holes opened up, they closed just as swiftly. Kethuru had
trapped me, caught in a diseased skein of flesh and soul, madness made
flesh, closing around me. I screamed in rage and pain but to no avail.
How long I fought, I do not know, but nights and days passed, until I
knew I was being toyed with, caught in a nightmare without end.

But then the skein around me shuddered. What was happening? I did not
know. The thousand eyes that hungrily watched my pain and suffering
suddenly looked away. And as soon as Kethuru's attention turned
elsewhere, it was like a fresh wind revived me as I was no longer
suffocated by his dark regard.

Self preservation finally kicked in, and I fought with renewed strength.
Battling past the visions of hate and the darkness born of the void,
past the souls trapped within Kethuru's cloying aura, I was finally able
to burn through a thinning layer of diseased flesh. Blue sky opened up
above me, and I shot up into the air, buffered by domotheon energies.
Exalting in freedom, I looked down and saw what saved me.

The mortal races had come to my rescue.

Glittering armies of lucidian, tribal bands of loboshigaru and aslaran,
aerial battalions of trill, furrikin, tae'dae, clangoru, orclach,
sileni, igasho and many more. The mortals were throwing themselves at
Kethuru. To save me. The Last Elder.

As soon as I realized what was happened, I screamed at them to retreat.
Some inner strength born purely of my own terror at what they did
blossomed within me and I threw roiling balls of pure immanidivinus
energies at Kethuru. He shuddered and backed off, but his foul form
covered the entire valley that surrounded the City of Lamerea. I tried
to save as many mortals as I could, but their losses were ludicrously
high.

It was clear now that I was a liability. After that battle, I did what I
could to sink into obscurity, hiding myself from mortals, becoming a
fading legend. How many decades passed, I do not know.

One day, as I walked along the shores where Jojobo met the sea, I met a
shipwrecked company of mugwumps. They had built a temporary shelter at
the edge of the trees. Covered in a cowled robe, I approached them to
see if they needed assistance. At first they were cautious, but I was
one and they were many. They said they were refugee scholars whose
island was devoured by Illith. Indeed, they were protecting chests of
books, each volume water proofed and securely bound
together. It was a
veritable travelling library. I gave them what information they needed
about the local land and directions to get to a local settlement of
dracnari. Throughout this exchange, an elderly female mugwump stared at
me. When I left the company, she followed me.

"Wait, sirrah," she rasped. "Please, wait."

"Yes?" I asked. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"My name is Mlorag and I know who ye are," she said. "You are the Last
Elder. Meridian."

"The shipwreck must have addled your mind, gentle lady," I said. "You
speak of legends."

"I speak the truth," Mlorag said. "We are the Keepers of Mysteries and
are custodians to many prophesies, ancient histories and other secrets,
handed down from keeper to keeper. One such thing is a History of the
Elder Wars."

Rummaging through a satchel at her side, Mlorag picked out a volume
bound in white leather. Intrigued despite myself, I came forward and she
handed it to me. Opening up the volume, each chapter was told from the
point of view of an Elder, together comprising the history of the Elder
Wars. I began reading the sad history as Mlorag stood politely beside
me. Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I read about the death of
Amberle, the beginning of the wars, the folly of the traitors, and even
of Xyl's last thoughts. It couldn't have been fiction, too much rang
true. Then I noticed it was written in the script of the Elders.

"Do you understand the Elder tongue?" I asked, surprised.

"I can read and write in that language," said Mlorag, "but only Elders
can speak it."

"Where did you get this book?"

"At one time, the stories were collected in magic gems by Mugowumpois,
who was our progenitor. She interviewed the first generation of each
race, collecting the final thoughts and putting it together in the story
you hold in your hands. After she splintered, we, her shards,
transferred the history into books. We continued her great project,
interviewing the first generations of lucidian, trill and dracnari.
There is only one chapter left, unwritten."

"You are looking for Meridian. The Last Elder. You are waiting for him
to splinter so you can finish the history?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that I am this Meridian?"

"Because we told her," said three voices in unison behind me. I spun
around and there stood the Fates. Lachesis stepped forward and said,
"Many of the secrets Mlorag and the Keepers protect are of interest to
us and we keep an eye on their movements and progress. We felt this
would be a good time for you to meet her."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Do you not want to know the message Mugowumpois gave to Xyl to cause
him to want to splinter?" asked Clotho.

"We have kept this for the one called Meridian," said Mlorag, pulling a
chain over her head. The chain held a pendant with a small crystal. "We
cannot read this crystal, for that skill has been lost to us. But it
contains the message Mugowumpois wanted given to Xyl. Only the Last
Elder can read it now."

With a sigh, I took the crystal from Mlorag. The Fates were watching me
intently. Annoyed, I turned my back on them and released the message.
The voice of a mugwump, sounding almost identical to Mugowumpois,
whispered into my mind, "You want to know the secret of the Portal of
Fate. Look into their eyes." That was all.

"Have you walked through the Portal of Fate, Mlorag?" I asked.

"I have," she said proudly.

Ignoring the Fates behind me, I looked into the eyes of Mlorag. She
stared back at me, her eyes were gold, flecked with green. Beautiful but
otherwise unremarkable. Mugowumpois wanted Xyl to look into their eyes.
He must have found something for he splintered soon after. I shifted my
perception and searched deeper. Yes, the eyes reflected how Mlorag
perceived the world around her, her individuality, her perspective.

Then I noticed it. Beyond her own perception was that of another, as if
someone or something else stared out with her. This other presence must
have become entwined when she entered through the Portal of Fate.

"They are quite unaware of the Other," said Clotho quietly in the Elder
tongue so Mlorag wouldn't understand. "When they step through the
portal, they brush against another reality, finding another soul that
resonates with their own, a quantum twin."

"They think this is a game," I said, studying the Other as it studied
me. "They don't believe in this reality."

"Does it matter?" asked Clotho. "They shape its story nonetheless."

"And behind the eyes of the Other," I said, looking even deeper. "There
is even another presence! Just as the Other shares space with Mlorag, so
too does the Other share space with another."

The Fates said nothing.

"It is a gameboard within a gameboard," I said. "Is this what
consciousness is? A fractal pattern that goes on without end? Each
reflection thinking they are in control when in truth there is always
someone behind them pulling strings?"

"There's always an end," said Atropos.

Without saying another word, I turned away from Mlorag and the Fates and
walked out to the ocean, letting the azure waters lap my feet. I had
called this the Amberle sea, for the waters were the colour of her eyes.

When the warm waters reached my thighs, I turned around. The Fates stood
together, watching me along side Mlorag, witnesses to the splintering of
the Last Elder.

"Does it hurt?" I asked. "Does dying hurt?"

"Oh yes," cackled Atropos. "It is very painful."

I nodded and went deeper into the ocean, swimming further out into the
waters, letting myself float out on the tide. The soft voice of Clotho
carried to me.

"My sister is wrong," she said. "It is not death that is painful. It is
being born."

And so I was.

Mind = blown

Then, something amazing happened, another race began to splinter from
this final pool of essence. And they were star shaped, a new race.
Finally, Dracnoris would know what it would be to be star formed. I
hoped he would be disappointed.

My response was to spam 'wtf' on my one and only OOC clan because wtf.

Either this is a typo, or Meridian = House.