This story is for ages 10 and up.

Long, long, long ago before any civilization came to the Earth, North America was known as The Land of Gangar. Its neighbor to the south were called Gangarest. Humans lived on Gangar and Kira, a girl from Gangar lived happily there. She loved to write stories, and spent most of her time in the summer on her tree house writing tales of gods and goddesses. Little did she know that whatever she wrote came true, for she was the author of life, and without her the Earth would not exist.  

A wispy blanket of clouds was stained a rainbow of colors by the setting sun, and the wind blew lightly across them, making them drift like logs in a vast river that was the sky.  The sunset painted the sky many shades of purple, pink, and orange, and the sun glowed like a huge fireball in the sky.  Something about the dusk was just magical.  As time passed, the colors darkened, and the sun fell, leaving only a shadowy night scattered with stars. 

Suddenly, something swooped through the darkening sky.  A tan-and-white creature, larger than an eagle, sailed over the clouds.  This huge creature was half cat and half owl, and it carried a wailing baby in its massive talons.  It soared higher and higher, like a muddy patch on a dark stone.  This creature, called the Merdith, stared to descend in a dizzying spiral.   It glided down by the door of a small cottage with a bright red door, surrounded by a large garden, rich in herbs and vegetables, and any plant imaginable.  Roses, mint, daisies, dandelions, you name it, it was there!  Only one herb was missing.  Basil.  I'll come back to that later.  Anyway, the Merdith brought the baby down and dropped it down on the doorstep of the cottage. 

Later that day, Lydia opened the front door and gasped.  A small baby in a woven basket babbled and laughed.  He had a few tufts of blond hair, and crystal blue eyes.  He smiled when he saw Lydia, clapping his tiny hands.  The goddess gave a little scream of delight.  Her mouth was hanging open in surprise and joy.  "Robin!  Look what's on the porch!" she cried, her eyes wide in glee.  Robin's footsteps sounded through the cottage, and soon the red door swung open.  Robin gasped, and looked at Lydia fondly.  "Looks like we have a little son.  Let's call him William!"  Lydia gave an approving smile.  Robin took William out of the basket carefully, and took him gently inside.  Lydia walked in with him, the little red door swinging shut behind them.

Little did they know that the Merdith that had carried him there was under a spell.  The Merdith had once been a boy, years ago.  A witch had cursed him into a form that was not his, and this spell could only be broken by the power of the Author of Life.  When the Merdith picked up William, the curse had sent a darkness into his heart.  This darkness could be balanced out if at the coming of age ceremony he was given the powers of fire, which brings light and heat into even the darkest of places.  But alas, that was not to happen.