Spirits
You haven't seen one, but you know someone who has. They're often animal-shaped, made of bright sparks, sometimes losing and regaining coherence. They don't speak, but they're smarter than the animals they look like, and they're magical. They often show up at moments of great need, and most of the time are helpful, although stories of spirits who try to eat you instead are not unheard of. But by and large, seeing a spirit is great luck and spells success in whatever you're trying.
Some people keep them as pets; they can grow powerful that way. But they're prized companions, and fickle - it's difficult to hold on to one, others will want to steal it, and once it grows bored of you it'll want to go to other people on its own. That often also means it'll disappear soon, though; rare is the spirit that lasts long after leaving their first master, and unheard of is the spirit that doesn't eventually just fade away.
Gods
Big, monstrous, incomprehensible, awesome. Settlements and cities used to always coalesce around them, and they'd provide protection, aid, and counsel in exchange for worship. They varied a lot; some were better with weather, some with crops, some with disease, some with hunting. Some with war.
No one really knows whether the monsters are gods or not; gods don't move, and monsters do. Gods protected us from them, fought them for us, sometimes even granted us the power to become their avatars and protect ourselves. But they looked so alike, and their powers were so very similar. They never overwhelmed us; our faith was strong, and so were our gods.
Our faith was strong, and so were our gods, and with them we rode to battle. For after all, if our gods were so superior, surely other people would see that, too, and favour them? So we rode to battle, we rode to war, and we conquered. Other gods died, and became stone, abandoned by their erstwhile worshippers. Our gods sometimes died, and we, too, would be forced to accept others' superiority. Our gods were growing strong.
Apocalypse
And then they turned on us.
No one understands why, what started it, but we suddenly were no longer enough. Perhaps we had grown too arrogant, too sure of ourselves, too hubristic. Perhaps they sought to punish us for using them like thus. Perhaps they had grown hungry, accustomed to death and war. Perhaps they saw us as nothing but mere pets, and grew bored of us. Whatever the reason, they turned on us, just as we were settling into uneasy but stable peace with our neighbours, just as we were reaching a point of equilibrium. And we tried to fight them; we had spirits on our side, spirits who did not abandon us, spirits who would fight with us. We had avatars of the gods, turning on their patrons and fighting them. But still they were gods, and we were humans, and we were overwhelmed. Running was the only option.
They didn't chase us; they couldn't. They were powerful, yes, and could reach beyond their borders, but their reach was limited, and if we could find somewhere that was not in reach of any gods, perhaps they would leave us alone. We took to the skies - great flying communities, with balloons and spirit magic keeping us aloft. Our old gods couldn't reach us. But the skies bear no fruit. We needed food, we needed resources, and the brave souls that would volunteer to go downside to get it for us became rarer and farther between. We were starving. We were dying.
We explored. We looked for places that had not been settled; small islands, cold faraway mountains, inhospitable places no one had claimed before. Those had no gods. We tried to begin anew. But without our gods to protect us, the monsters were free to attack us. Without our protectors, we had nothing.
We have nothing. Though our gods are dead and turned to stone, enormous monuments to a time that is no more, we cannot return whence we came, for the world is too perilous without their protection. Brave souls do still seek some forgotten old gods that may aid us, that may not turn against us; or they refuse this fate, refuse to tie our existence to our wretched deities, and want to create their own new world from the ashes of the old one. Spirits are drawn to them; phoenixes light their way. Spirits never did abandon us, and with the hope of heroes they try to find new ways.
They all die.
Me? I've accepted it. The Age of Gods is ended, and soon too will be the Age of Humanity.
Hope
Avatars
