We the Providers

"All right, you're up," Fengari told me.

I yawned and stretched. "Already?"

"Yes," she answered. "Ouranos and Avgi say so. Avgi's already riding her chariot across his canvas."

Right. Of course she was. Avgi always rose across Ouranos's grand canvas at the same time every day. It was that action that meant it was time for me to awaken and take over Fengari's job. She protected, she watched, she guided. Her army of asteri assisted her in her duties. And she, in turn, assisted the great Nychta who darkened Ouranos's canvas as was custom.

Ouranos's canvas projected forth as a dome.

Nychta darkened it.

Fengari illuminated that darkness.

Her asteri assisted.

Avgi's chariot drew a line across the canvas, separating the darkness with growing colors.

I awakened with Imera.

Avgi and Nychta went to sleep.

Imera and I took over the duties.

Like clockwork. Actions. Duties.

Repeat.

Imera provided my own army of synnefo who helped let me know what sort of duty I'd be accomplishing each time. Would there be water provided by Vrochi? Snow via Chioni's works? Or would I be on my own, providing growth, health, and warmth?

Whatever the answer was, I would work my shift as usual. No questions. No mistakes. Simply doing what I was meant to. Then Avgi's brother, Souroupo, would ride his chariot across the canvas, melding my light into Nychta's darkness. Fengari would take over. I would go to sleep.

And the whole cycle would restart.

Today, in particular, I saw that I would be with Chioni, his icy helpers, and plenty of thick, larger synnefo who floated within Ouranos's canvas. I provided my light, letting the bare trees know that I would be there for them when they awakened. I would be that brightness that the vines and plants follow.

It was always a great adventure watching Mother's children blossom with the help of my light and the workings of my fellow Providers. It was wonderful to see their own cycle, their own contributions to the rules. Their duties. We the Providers and Mother all did what we did for the children, I supposed.

And, in turn, the children gave their thanks by nurturing the--

What was this?

I peered closer. The trees didn't sway as they usually did. Their surroundings were not gray or white as I expected, but more of a charcoal black. The sea's glitter was dim, and Stillness replaced any sort of subtle Animation.

"Chioni, is there someone here I wasn't expected? Ifaisteio perhaps?" Ifaisteio sometimes acted unpredictably. He exhaled fire from within Mother's belly, and though it blackened much of the formations beneath Ouranos's canvas, sometimes it created new and beautiful things.

It was all necessary and also part of the rules. Ifaisteio's duty.

"Chioni isn't here today," Imera told me. She was with me and not as bright as usual, regardless of how much of my light shone. She was also gray, and she was the one causing the synnefo to look so dark and ominous.

"He isn't?" I asked. "But the land's stillness looks like his work..."

"Chioni and his Ice aren't due to be here until one hundred more cycles," Imera said. "This is the work of some of Mother's children."

I gasped. "What? But how? Why?"

"Have you not been paying attention, Ilios? Many of her children have been fighting, creating fires that don't belong to Ifaisteio, splitting ground that is not Seismo's doing...taking from our very Mother herself. She's not as strong as she once was. Have you not realized that your rays have become hotter, Okeanos's waters higher, Chioni's landscapes depleting, and Mother's heart fainter?"

No. I had not noticed any of that. I was too busy shining. Too busy performing my duties and doing what I was supposed to do. If anyone would notice anything different, it would be Imera, Nychta, and Ouranos. The three of them formed the Dome and observed and regarded everything.

"...but you never told us..." I murmured.

"I couldn't," Imera whispered. "In fact, I'm not supposed to. But you noticed, so I had to say something. Mother is not the same. Her children are not the same."

"I do not understand. How can they do this to her. That is not their duty! That is against the ways!"

Imera sighed. "I know. But it seems that they have created their own rules now. Their own duties. Their own ways of life. Their cycle."

I stared off towards the inanimate formation beneath me: trees that would no longer provide air, earth that would not provide sustenance anymore, water that would not quench thirst.

A pang struck me. "So what do we do now?"

"We continue on," Imera answered. "We keep to our shifts. Mother provides her resources to the ones who weaken her, I give them the hope of a new morning, Ouranos watches over them, Nychta provides them their rest, Fengari shows them the way in the dark, and you bathe them in your light. It is what we do. It is what we will keep doing...even if it causes our own undoing."

I hated to admit that she was right. Imera was completely correct. There really was nothing we could do about Mother's Weakening. There was nothing we could do about some of her own children's New Rules, which further harmed her. We, the Providers, had to keep going. Had to keep working. Had to keep doing what we were supposed to.

But there was a part of me...deep within me...that couldn't help but wonder:

What if I decided to close my eyes, bid good night to the New Rule Children...

...and turn my light out?