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The midday sun shone over the Rainbow City of Caravia, a prosperous, populous and above all colorful burg off the western coast of the Trinian continent. The sunlight poured over the multicolored roofs and windows of the Grand Basilica, over the exquisitely decorated walls, towers and colonnades of the priestly districts, over the cheerful homes of the humble and over the populace itself, gladdening their hearts as they paraded down the cobblestone streets. Caravia had become a carnival: everyone danced, laughed and celebrated, for this was a great festival indeed, a festival held in honor of Milan Maobu, the beautiful, gigantic and all-powerful Goddess who in her benevolence had created Eden, the wondrous and impossible world which they called home. This was, in fact, to be the last day of the month-long celebrations - and what a time it’d been! The Caravians had prayed, feasted, composed odes and hymns, marched in procession, held masques, carnivals and orgies, and engaged in every sort of earthly delight, every sort of hedonistic pleasure, and every sort of praise and exultation, for they knew such things pleased and amused their beloved Milan.

Milan, the Great Mother, was Eden’s sole and supreme deity. She alone was worshiped by every culture and every creed across that world’s vast breadth, and she alone was loved by each and every one of the countless humans who lived upon its ten thousand continents. The Edenians were unified by their faith in Milan: she was their loving Mother, and they were her obedient, devoted and adoring children. And their faith was not some rote tradition or quaint custom, no: it was a burning, yearning zeal, a love deeper and more painful than any wound. Their devotion was so great, so grandiose and so self-sacrificial that it bordered on madness. They would have given anything for her! The humans of Eden didn’t just worship their Goddess, they didn’t just adore her: they lived for her. For them she was the apex of all which was beautiful and good. She gave meaning to their existences: she was their queen, their world, their everything.

Small wonder, then, that the Caravians had spent all their wealth in transforming their city into a living, breathing monument to Milan’s glory! They’d built new shrines and temples to honor her name, as well as parks, fountains and flower gardens to delight her senses; they’d multiplied the city’s already dazzling colors, turning it into an opaline wonder, a kaleidoscopic display of beauty; they’d hired poets, mages and musicians from all over Eden to crowd their walls with art and their air with music; and - in the greatest display of religious squandering the Trinian lands had ever seen - they’d erected a colossal bronze statue of Milan at the mouth of the Caravian harbor, a grand portrayal of her immense beauty which, straddling the waters, reminded everyone who sailed between her legs of the Goddess’ perfection, for the artists had carved every part of her divine anatomy in loving detail, from her bountiful curves to her throbbing and proudly erect cock. The Caravian Colossus now stood as the pride and joy of all Caravians, the jewel in the crown of their faith. And yet, despite all that they’d done, many thought it too little - for they believed that Milan deserved everything and more.

But why was Milan so universally beloved? Why was it that no matter where you went in Eden you’d hear her name praised by all? Well, because she was a being who by her very nature commanded adoration. She was a titaness, a giantess of truly unfathomable size, a deity whose power was beyond compare and whose beauty was beyond belief. The humans knew this to be true: not only were they taught of Milan from birth, not only did they live surrounded by odes, songs, frescoes and statues which praised her size, power and loveliness, but they also dreamed of her. They saw glimpses of her when they slept, vague impressions of her gorgeous body, errant scraps of her lustful voice. Small things, yet big enough to stoke their devotion to even greater heights. The humans, in short, knew for a fact that Milan was infinitely superior to them, as much as they themselves were superior to the bugs who crawled upon the earth. And yet, despite that overwhelming superiority, despite the fact that, were she so inclined, she could’ve erased the whole of humanity with a snap of her fingers, the Goddess was also kind, generous… and loving. She truly loved humans! She loved them so much that, in a display of stunning and sublime generosity, she had created the world of Eden for them to thrive in, an earthly paradise where there was no scarcity, sickness or strife of any kind - though it’d been so long since its creation that few Edenians still understood what those concepts meant. Here humanity could live a truly blessed existence, one of peace, joy, freedom and abundance, cared for and protected by a loving, omnipotent Goddess. What a magnificent gift she’d made for them! And all she’d asked for in return was for their worship, their love…

...and their lives.

For Milan was a kind and loving Goddess, yes, but she had a darkness to her. A cruel, lustful, sadistic and insatiable side which urged her to use Eden and its inhabitants as playthings to be crushed, eaten, killed and tormented at her leisure. And despite how kind she was, she loved to indulge these urges. And so, every now and then, she visited Eden and she unleashed her dark desires. The people of Eden told many tales of these visits, for they had all been carved indelibly upon the world’s flesh and upon humanity’s collective memory. They told of entire continents obliterated, of civilizations destroyed in perverse games, of billions of lives sacrificed to sate Milan’s selfish, monstrous lust. And yet this cruelty didn’t make them love her any less! It didn’t even mean that the humans’ faith was born out of terror or survival. It merely meant that they knew that, for all that their lives were joyous, there may come a time when their Goddess would come and claim them as sacrifices - and they hoped that, if and when that moment came, they would meet their ends as any human should: with a smile on their lips and a prayer in their hearts. For Milan was their Goddess, and as such she was above them. If she wanted to kill them all for her pleasure, who were they to complain, to resist, to flee, to beg? And why would they even do it? After all, they truly believed themselves to be her children, hers to do whatever they wished with, no matter how cruel!

So it was that many strange rites had become the norm in different parts of Eden: rites of propitiation, of bloodshed and debauchery, rites whose aim it was to feed Milan’s dark appetites, to slake her wanton lust - so that her monstrous side was sated, and her generous, benevolent and motherly side could reign in peace. One of these rites was human sacrifice - willing sacrifices, of course! And one of the places where it was practiced was none other than Caravia, the Rainbow City. The faithful Caravians had sent many of their own to meet the Goddess over the years - and today, to conclude their much-vaunted festival, they’d send another sacrifice to her side, spilling their blood and anointing the city’s colorful stones with it.

The people of Caravia poured into the city’s main square amidst much laughter and celebration, brandishing flower garlands and brightly-hued parasols. The square was far too small to hold even a fraction of the city’s 8 million inhabitants, and so they crowded the surrounding streets, clambering atop trees, balconies and roofs to get a better view. Those who couldn’t see the rite could console themselves by staring at the Caravian Colossus instead, which towered over the city even at a distance. Oh, how they loved that statue! They believed it to be as close to Milan’s true majesty as mortal hands could get, and it inspired pride, devotion and desire in equal measure… as well as envy among their neighbors, which for them was just another perk. Faith was seen as a competition by many, and Caravia was in it to win it! The crowd jostled and murmured until they heard the triple tolling of the Grand Basilica’s bells - the sun was high in the sky, the time was right and the ritual was at hand. The Caravians became quiet and expectant as the Basilica’s doors opened. A figure stepped through, a regal, crimson-clad woman whom all knew as Alma, one of the High Priestesses of Caravia - and the most popular by far. Behind her came the chosen sacrifice, clad in pure white, as well as a procession of priests and dignitaries. The priestess climbed atop a raised dais and, raising her hand, prepared to speak.

“My fellow citizens!” - she began, her powerful, magically-enhanced voice carrying all over the city. “We’ve gathered here today to offer the life of one of our own to the great Mother, Milan Maobu, in whose name we have feasted and celebrated for the last month! May her gaze be caught by this humble sacrifice, may her heart be delighted by the blood we will spill in her name, and may her generous soul bless us with everlasting joy!” Alma was a handsome woman, dark-skinned and fierce-eyed, her long black hair dyed with a stripe of opulent purple, and she effortlessly commanded the people’s attention. She spoke of faith and of sacrifice, of what Milan had given to them and what she was owed in return, and the Caravians listened in electrified, rapturous silence - for when Alma spoke, even the smallest among them pictured themself as a paladin of Milan, a champion willing to give it all for the sake of the Great Mother’s pleasure.

“The time has come!” - she said at last, drawing a curved dagger from her jeweled belt. “Oh, chosen sacrifice, step forwards and lay your head upon the stone! May your bravery be an example to us all, and may we all remember that, even though today we offer but one single life to Milan, some day she may come and claims us all as her own - and when that day comes, my friends, we must be steadfast, we must be faithful… and we must die well!”

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the sacrificial lamb stepped beside Alma. He was a young and handsome nobleman, one whose roguish grin and cheerful façade couldn’t quite disguise the fear which coursed through his body - despite the fact that he’d volunteered himself for this. He was human, after all, and humans were afraid of death, no matter how righteous the cause. But, after some encouragement from Alma, he managed to gather his spirits and knelt before the priestess, much to the crowd’s delight - for they knew he would earn himself a truly blessed place in the afterlife. Alma grinned, basking in their faith, and steeled herself in turn for her grisly work. She looked beyond the city, beyond the Colossus, beyond the coasts of the Pellian continent to the east, beyond other continents which, squashed by perspective, followed each other in blurry succession… she looked towards Eden’s horizon, farther than any human could travel in a single lifetime, letting her eyes wander over the beautiful creation which Milan had seen fit to give to humanity, and breathe deeply - feeling at peace with herself and her Goddess. Then, raising her dagger in the air, she prepared to slit the sacrifice’s throat…

…and stopped.

There was something in the sky, something which had appeared suddenly and without warning: an orb of white light, as bright as a second sun. The dagger fell from Alma’s hands, clattering on the ground. Her eyes widened, her mouth hung open, and a chill settled in her heart - for she knew what this was. No living human she knew of had ever witnessed this second sun, but every tale she’d heard and every chronicle she’d read of Milan’s visits to Eden began with its appearance. It was a herald of divinity. The crowd mumbled and milled in confusion, but soon enough they were turning, pointing and shouting, for they had seen it too - alongside every human in the Trinian continent. The second sun floated high in the sky, in full view of dozens of continents and hundreds of billions of humans, and they were all awestruck by it. Few knew what it meant, but they all suspected that, whatever it was, it had to be the Great Mother’s handiwork.

Eden fell into disarray, the cities of humanity boiling with confused zeal and fearful exhilaration. Was this a blessed sight.. or an omen of destruction? No one quite knew what to think or what to feel, but they didn’t have much time to wonder. Suddenly there was a noise, a roaring, ripping thunder, as if reality itself was being torn asunder - the second sun grew in intensity, forcing the humans to cover their eyes, and the very sky became white-hot with its glare. The earth trembled, the air shimmered, and everything was swallowed by that pale and terrible light. The humans crawled on the ground, blind and deaf, praying to Milan amidst wails and tears - many thought by then that this was the end of Eden, and so they begged her for deliverance as the light grew and grew. Soon there was nothing but burning white, trembling earth and maddening noise, and it all felt like the toppling of the pillars of creation… 

…and then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun.

Alma blinked in the sudden clarity, her sight and hearing restored. She alone among all Caravians had remained standing, a rock of faith against a maelström of light and sound. She looked to the horizon once more: the sky was blue, the second sun was gone… and in its place was something much, much bigger. A great behemoth, a gargantuan figure, a giantess as tall as the sky itself, so huge that she seemed to stand on the very horizon. When she saw her, Alma dropped to her knees, her mind blank, her body limp, and soon enough she was joined by everyone else. A trillion souls beheld the titaness, and they all knelt as one, for they all knew perfectly well who it was. She was the main character of their litanies, their paintings, their statues, their tales, their dreams. She’d been their mother and guide since birth, their constant companion, their counsel in sorrow, their lantern of joy, the star of every lurid fantasy, of every hallowed dream, of every nightmare of destruction. 

She was the Goddess, the Great Mother, Milan Maobu in the flesh… and she’d come to visit.

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