A telling of the beginning – Shemil, Shawoman
First there was no speech and so there was no telling. The ancient ones needed no speech. Vastness beyond the plains and the sky or the sands of the coast was their home.
Time was wrought then, and the Kesh but not as it's known. The Kesh was and the old ones came to it. They breathed out the air and trod the valleys and rose the mountains. The Kesh grew beyond until even the ancient ones would not remember all its ways. Still the ancients wrought.
Delu was wrought by accident. Perhaps the ancient one didn't know what it was they did but it doesn't matter. Delu's spark was ancient but of the Kesh and so Delu did not care about time before and worlds beyond. The ancients were of little concern to Delu.
Who knows what those spirits thought or even if they think but Delu was perceived and felt their terrible minds. Delu felt that they sought him to be unwrought and Delu fled. He hid himself and that place is the other land where his children, the gods live and the ancients know not to seek.