Before the Earth, the Sun was guided by a primordial force. In the intense pressure of its core, this force manifested a physical form, a human form. Around it, a golden sphere of protection shielded the body from heat. As the Sun found its rightful place in the galaxy, this force was done growing at its core.

 

A solar flare that purged all the planets of their atmospheres launched the golden sphere into space. The planets recovered and life began on Earth as a result of that regrowth. During this time, humans began to walk and form communities and tribes. They gathered resources and separated from each other, keeping for themselves even what others needed. This was the birth of greed.

Centered between three major cities, each with their own culture, the golden sphere landed. There was neither a flame trail, nor a violent impact. Even so, the glimmer of the large orb caught the eye of many humans and word spread like sunfire.

Rulers of the three tribes arrived at the site by morning, speaking no words to each other. They had their servants attempt to move the sphere. It was immovable. They tried to break it. It was unbreakable. A few months of attempts passed before a fourth culture arrived at the sphere.

The fourth culture was more humble than the others. Unique amongst the others, they hunted with well trained birds. They were more concerned with the humans than with the actual orb. While the gold would be an enormous boost to their troubled economy, it seemed insane that the other tribes wasted so much time on this endeavor when their own cities had need for them.

As they prepared to leave the others, one of their birds perched atop the sphere. It pecked curiously at a dented section until a loud crack was heard. All the leaders stood and watched, hoping the whole thing would bust open. They grew tired of waiting and had their servants build structures on three sides of the sphere so the leaders could view inside.

“It’s a man.” each leader said in their own languages. They viewed inside the grand, hollow sphere to see a large man laying down, staring out of the hole at the hunting birds circling above.

Each of the rulers were given tools to break into the sphere. As their hammers and chisels touched the golden shell, it crumbled into many smaller pieces. There was no man, but a golden bird emerged from the center and flew off into the trees.

The three rulers and their servants fought to collect the gold for themselves while the fourth tribe tried to stop the fighting. Upon the tallest branch, the golden bird kept a watchful eye. 

Once every bit of gold was taken, the three rulers returned to their cities; the fourth tribe had been gone for a while by then.

Returning to their humble encampment in the rainforest, the fourth tribe brought with them food they hunted. Their birds ate well, along with their children and elders. The hunters, however, struggled to catch enough to feed themselves. It stormed wildly that night. Loose branches and animal skins gave way to cold, relentless wind and rain. Again, the children, birds and elders were sheltered while the majority of the tribe had no space to avoid the elements.

The sun rose with fury. The fourth tribe awoke to the golden bird standing at the center of their village. It transformed before their eyes into a man. He spoke words in their language, and they could hear the same words in other languages being spoken simultaneously.

“Amidst sprawling cities, I find true worthiness here.”

The man raised his arms, and his golden staff shone with sunlight. Rocks making up the village’s landscape began to change. People walked to pick up the stones to find that they were not stones anymore. The fourth culture had been blessed by this being with pure gold.

 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” the people all approached and bowed before the man.

“Beware greed, the offspring of fortune.” the man warned, transforming back into a massive, golden bird and retreating to the rainforest.

The three major cities of old collapsed not long after the golden sphere. The fourth culture, however, was generous and willing to take in any refugees. For centuries, they prospered, remaining grateful to the mythical being who brought them their wealth.

Eventually, the new major civilization was taken over by a cruel warlord. The city shook and stone crumbled at the pounding of war drums. The people once again would need their patron to survive.

As the warlord approached the throne, he found that the people were all bowing on the large golden platform. They all prayed to the being, unsure whether he would appear.

High above the throne, in the sky, gold feathers reflected a beam of sunlight towards the warlord, erupting a pillar of flame. Though just a warning, he was thrown from his fleeing horse and forced to abandon the siege with his army. Drumming grew more faint until the city knew they were safe.

 

Compassion for the city’s people and understanding of their vulnerability, it was clear without him, they would be attacked again, so the bird perched on the tall back of the chair and turned to solid gold. Noone dared attack the city, for fear of their resident Sun God, Zol.