The sky has darkened to all but black, with only shining stars and the pale blue surface of the moon to pierce through. There is but one last candle within the room's sanctuary, the sudden breeze fluttering the curtains threatening to snuff out the tiny orange light. Water laps against the strip of beach out near the ocean, the salty aroma of the sea nearby drifting through.
"Good night, my dear. You need rest for tomorrow."
Squirming beneath the covers, shaking head of dark hair fervently.
"But I don't wanna go to sleep, Mother. I'm not tired!"
"At least try and get to bed now. You don't have to sleep right away."
"I don't want to go to sleep. I want to go outside near the ocean shore like we did today. Besides, it's nighttime and it isn't as hot and sunny."
Really a stubborn one, is he not?
"You can't play outside near the sea tonight. It's far too late, and I don't want you getting lost."
"I won't get lost! I'll stay right near the house!" Insistent of a promise they never keep, that's just how children act.
"...Shall I tell you a bedtime story then?"
"...I'd like that. BUT-" There it is, that one little hint that leans towards a compromise - "If I'm not tired by the end of this first story, then you have to tell me another. And another. And another. Until I fall asleep or say I want to go to sleep!"
Of course, with that type of vigor, it may take hours until then.
"No more than a few. If you aren't asleep by then, you'll have to try going to bed yourself. That's part of our compromise."
"Okay." Perhaps there is biting reluctance in the tone, but the eagerness for a story is far too willing.
"Good. These stories will be different from usual. You're old enough, it's time that I told you of the history of how our world came to be, a far cry from the usual tales of princes and princesses you've heard so much about in the past. These are stories you might not have heard until now, connecting to our native faith. These are stories about a world the gods once loved."
a/n: so here's the prologue to the book of mythology chronicled in the bountiful land of terra. there are no names needed, because really you can imagine this from the perspective of any terran mother telling her child a bedtime story. whatever you imagine these two to look like is correct. feedback is welcomed on this story, and if you dislike the whimsical tone this story is taking I'm sorry. I also feel like telling it in present tense will actually make it better, but if you have advice on what I can do better I will be happy to listen.
and here we have the prelude to 'a world the gods once loved'