Long time ago, in the days before time as we know it began, when the earth was soft and the heavens still young, a mighty conflict raged between the gods. This war, known in forgotten tongues as the "Sunder of Spirits," tore apart the realms of light and shadow, for the gods could not agree on the fate of the mortals below them. Some gods believed humanity deserved the gift of free will, the power to shape their own destinies. Others, convinced that such freedom would lead to ruin, sought to control mortal existence, binding them to servitude.
Amid this divine schism, a lesser deity named Ildros, Keeper of Earth and Stone, sought a different path. Unlike the gods of the skies or the oceans, Ildros did not vie for the control of human hearts. He dwelt beneath the mountains, whispering to the stones, shaping the bones of the world itself. His was the quiet power of endurance, the slow and steady crafting of life from the dust and clay.
When the war began, Ildros remained neutral, refusing to side with the gods of freedom or domination. But in his neutrality, he saw something that troubled him deeply: the mortals, for whose fate the gods battled, had no say in their own future. They were mere pawns in the hands of celestial forces far beyond their comprehension, helpless as the heavens raged above them. Ildros, despite his nature as a god, found this injustice unbearable. He sought to protect the mortals from the cruel whims of the divine.
In the hidden recesses of his mountain sanctum, Ildros began his work. He would craft a new kind of creature, one that could act as a protector and guardian of humankind - a creature of stone and earth, bound by neither the laws of man nor god. This creature would not have a soul in the way mortals did, for Ildros knew that a soul could be manipulated by the gods. Instead, it would be animated by something far more ancient and indomitable: the deep will of the earth itself.
After centuries of shaping, carving, and imbuing his creations with his power, Ildros breathed life into the first of the Golems. These beings, formed of unyielding rock and enchanted clay, rose from the ground in silence, their blank eyes glowing faintly with the essence of the earth. They were not living, not in the way mortals were, but they moved with purpose, their massive forms driven by a single, unwavering command - to protect the weak and oppressed, to stand as shields against the gods themselves if need be.
Ildros believed he had found the perfect solution to the conflict. The Golems would walk the earth, protect humanity from divine interference, and ensure that the balance between freedom and control was maintained. However, the other gods, upon discovering what Ildros had done, saw his creations as an abomination. In their eyes, the Golems were soulless mockeries of life, beings without will or choice, slaves to the will of a rogue god.
Furious, the gods turned against Ildros. They sought to destroy the Golems, fearing that these silent giants could challenge their divine authority. In the cataclysmic battle that followed, the gods unleashed their wrath upon the earth, hurling storms, fire, and floods at the Golems. But the Golems were not so easily destroyed. The power of the earth flowed through them, and as long as the mountains stood and the rivers ran, they would endure.
Realizing that they could not destroy the Golems by force alone, the gods devised a crueler plan. They cast a mighty curse upon the Golems, severing them from the command of their creator. No longer bound to protect humanity, the Golems fell into a deep, dreamless slumber, their great stone bodies crumbling into the earth, becoming mountains, hills, and forgotten ruins. The gods believed that without Ildros' direct guidance, the Golems would be no more than inert statues, relics of a failed rebellion.
But Ildros, though defeated, had foreseen this treachery. In his final act before being imprisoned by the gods in the heart of the world, he planted a seed of awakening deep within the core of each Golem - a secret vow known only to the stones themselves. This vow, a fragment of the earth's own will, ensured that the Golems would one day rise again, not at the bidding of gods or mortals, but in response to a far older power: the cry of the world itself.
As the centuries passed, humanity forgot the Golems. Their legends faded into myth, and the great stone guardians became part of the landscape, indistinguishable from the mountains they once resembled. Yet the earth did not forget. The Golems, though silent and still, remained attuned to the pulse of the world. They listened to the winds, the shifting of the continents, the whisper of the rivers. And they waited.
It is said that in the darkest corners of the earth, in the places where humanity dares not tread, some Golems have already begun to stir. These are not the peaceful guardians of old, however. Ages of isolation and neglect have twisted their purpose. The earth, wounded by millennia of war, exploitation, and destruction, cries out in anger, and the Golems, now responding to that pain, have awoken with a new purpose - to restore the world by any means necessary, even if it means wiping humanity from its surface.
The legend of the Stone's Vow, as it is now known, tells of the day when the Golems will rise in full force once again. They will march across the lands, their stone bodies imbued with the fury of the earth itself, and the gods, long absent from the mortal plane, will have no power to stop them. For the Golems no longer serve the gods, nor do they serve men. They serve the earth, and the earth has grown tired of its wounds.
It is said that the only way to calm the Golems is to fulfill Ildros' original vision - to live in harmony with the earth, to heal the scars inflicted by countless generations. But this, like the Golems themselves, has become a forgotten dream, buried beneath the mountains and lost to time. And so the Golems wait, silent as stone, until the earth's final call beckons them once more to rise.