Shulva had been the first to feel the wounded expanse. The first to hear the great unbearable wail of the stars, that not so dissimilar in the way of an incomprehensible shattering.

They were the first to fall to cosmic despair. They fell so far and so long that eventually they peered into an unending expanse of darkness that like the surface of a black sun. As they looked deeper still they witnessed a great and sharp serpent weave upon the perpetual mass much like a needle would thread.

Shulva birthed the garden in that place. A haven for those who had fallen so far and for so long. And though they had become blind long before, the revelation of the divine sight left a mark upon their mind and a manifest upon their chest in the form of an inverted triangle.

Those who fall deepest are all the more likely to rise up once more, and those whose eyes peer long enough inward, into the dark...can see the ethereal strings connecting all things between the Earth, stars, and one another. 

If one quiets their mind enough, they may grow well aware that the universe still murmurs and groans inwardly, as if having a terrible and long, sad dream. To inherit this pain is to in some way bring comfort to the primordial.

The mouths of Shulva understood most of all however...if they listened deeper...they might still hear the soft whispers of the ethereal strings stirring even now. The whispers always instilling the same words....

"...Mother...Home..."