Mertra Mertra: The Forgotten Song of the Twin Moons
In the far reaches of the Aeylin Expanse, where the silver sands of the Nightwind Desert meet the obsidian cliffs of the Voresh Peaks, the name “Mertra Mertra” is whispered only at twilight, when the twin moons hang in balance—one full, one dark, each reflecting the other like opposing truths. To the uninitiated, it is a chant. To scholars, a riddle. But to the old ones who still remember the world before it shattered, Mertra Mertra is the last song of unity.
The Origin of the Name
“Mertra” is an ancient word in the forgotten tongue of the Elyari—once a flourishing race of dream-walkers who could traverse both the waking world and the astral realms. It meant “memory,” but also “mirror.” Repeated, as in Mertra Mertra, it takes on sacred power: the memory of memory, the reflection of reflection. It is said that when sung in harmony at the sacred convergence of moons, the phrase opens a gate to the Wellspring of Truth—a place untouched by time or illusion.
But that is only the surface.
The Legend of the Two
Long ago, before kingdoms rose and crumbled, there lived two sisters
Mertra Mertra: The Forgotten Song of the Twin Moons
In the far reaches of the Aeylin Expanse, where the silver sands of the Nightwind Desert meet the obsidian cliffs of the Voresh Peaks, the name “Mertra Mertra” is whispered only at twilight, when the twin moons hang in balance—one full, one dark, each reflecting the other like opposing truths. To the uninitiated, it is a chant. To scholars, a riddle. But to the old ones who still remember the world before it shattered, Mertra Mertra is the last song of unity.
The Origin of the Name
“Mertra” is an ancient word in the forgotten tongue of the Elyari—once a flourishing race of dream-walkers who could traverse both the waking world and the astral realms. It meant “memory,” but also “mirror.” Repeated, as in Mertra Mertra, it takes on sacred power: the memory of memory, the reflection of reflection. It is said that when sung in harmony at the sacred convergence of moons, the phrase opens a gate to the Wellspring of Truth—a place untouched by time or illusion.
But that is only the surface.
The Legend of the Two
Long ago, before kingdoms rose and crumbled, there lived two sisters born under an eclipse: Seren, the Moon of Light, and Veyra, the Moon of Shade. Unlike the celestial bodies that circled the world, these were not gods or stars—they were living forces, shaped in flesh and breath. Seren was radiant and bold, gifted in healing and music, while Veyra was quiet and piercing, a weaver of dreams and shadows.
Together, they wandered the lands, uniting tribes, ending wars, healing old wounds. But as light cannot exist without shadow, so too were they destined for conflict. A great schism arose—not of hatred, but of sorrow. Seren wished to preserve the waking world as it was, fearing the loss of life and identity in the dream realms. Veyra, ever drawn to mystery, believed true freedom lay beyond flesh and form, within the endless dream.
They parted. And with their parting, the Elyari—who once followed both—split. The world fractured. The art of dream-walking was lost, and with it, the memory of peace.
Only the words remained: Mertra Mertra.
The Song That Remains
Bards still sing fragments of the last duet of Seren and Veyra. It is forbidden in many places, yet always remembered. The melody is unlike anything else—rising in spirals, collapsing in silence, then building again like waves of emotion. It is said that a pure heart singing Mertra Mertra at the Gate of the Crescent Stones can glimpse both sisters in vision and choose the path forward: the world of waking, or the world of dreams.
Scholars of modern times debate whether the story is allegory or lost history. Some say Mertra Mertra is not a song, but a code, a spell to unlock forgotten technology or pathways between dimensions. Others believe it is the name of a celestial machine buried deep within the world’s crust, left by a pre-human civilization that understood balance better than we do.
Yet others whisper of a child born under a new eclipse—neither Seren nor Veyra, but both—who will one day utter Mertra Mertra not as a song, but as a command.
Echoes in the Present
born under an eclipse: Seren, the Moon of Light, and Veyra, the Moon of Shade. Unlike the celestial bodies that circled the world, these were not gods or stars—they were living forces, shaped in flesh and breath. Seren was radiant and bold, gifted in healing and music, while Veyra was quiet and piercing, a weaver of dreams and shadows.
Together, they wandered the lands, uniting tribes, ending wars, healing old wounds. But as light cannot exist without shadow, so too were they destined for conflict. A great schism arose—not of hatred, but of sorrow. Seren wished to preserve the waking world as it was, fearing the loss of life and identity in the dream realms. Veyra, ever drawn to mystery, believed true freedom lay beyond flesh and form, within the endless dream.
They parted. And with their parting, the Elyari—who once followed both—split. The world fractured. The art of dream-walking was lost, and with it, the memory of peace.
Only the words remained: Mertra Mertra.
The Song That Remains
Bards still sing fragments of the last duet of Seren and Veyra. It is forbidden in many places, yet always remembered. The melody is unlike anything else—rising in spirals, collapsing in silence, then building again like waves of emotion. It is said that a pure heart singing Mertra Mertra at the Gate of the Crescent Stones can glimpse both sisters in vision and choose the path forward: the world of waking, or the world of dreams.
Scholars of modern times debate whether the story is allegory or lost history. Some say Mertra Mertra is not a song, but a code, a spell to unlock forgotten technology or pathways between dimensions. Others believe it is the name of a celestial machine buried deep within the world’s crust, left by a pre-human civilization that understood balance better than we do.
Yet others whisper of a child born under a new eclipse—neither Seren nor Veyra, but both—who will one day utter Mertra Mertra not as a song, but as a command.
Echoes in the Present
In the Mertra of forgotten empires, ruins carry inscriptions: “To know Mertra is to know thyself.” The wandering monks of Elthara wear amulets etched with the twin glyphs of light and shadow, calling themselves “Keepers of the Mirror Song.” There are even those who claim to have dreamed of Seren and Veyra, dancing in an endless field of stars, reaching out to each other—but never quite touching.
In such dreams, the dreamer always hears the same two words, soft and sorrowful:
