A/N: Myth on the fly! Written during a cool RP session with a buddy. It was my first try at fan-mythology. Squenix owns'em, not me! Kthxbye.
When the gods joined the crusade as guardian forces under Odin's command, Ifrit, the King of the Valley of Flame, became remorseful of the rash exile of his Queen. Before she became the Kneeling Lady, she had been the goddess of the skies and winds. Hers was the breath that stirred the life in the fires he tended, and hers were the skies his land reached upward to touch. When the crusades were over and the guardian forces were locked away to sleep in wait for the next Sorceress, the Forces returned to their homes. But Queen Shiva fell away from Ifrit, and wrapped herself in the clouds in shame. Even Odin couldn't force her out again.
Her skies became slick with snow and hail, as she was frozen in shame for having insulted her King. She didn't know, however, that her sorrow was reducing his valley to sodden ashes. She knew nothing, because her clouds became frozen around her, and she could hear nothing. Odin came to the kingdom of Ifrit and demanded that he remedy this tragedy, as the winds were needed to keep the world in order, as were all elements. Odin declared that the only proof he would accept of Ifrit's apology would be a union of those two gods, birthing a new and even more powerful god. Ifrit protested, knowing that his lady had become a creature of ice. He knew that such a union would kill them both, but more than himself, he did not wish to see her perish.
Odin gave him no choice. If he did not create the union, Odin would trap them both in the Tower of Void- the prison Odin saved only for the most despicable deities, where they would be ripped apart again and again for eternity, granted the same senses as mortals. With great sorrow, Ifrit acceded to Odin's demand, and built a great roof over his Valley. He tended to his flames until they sprung forth again, and in these apprehensive flames, he forged a sword with the stone they burned over. This was the King's Cutlass, which bore his symbol on the blade, so that the sentries of the frozen skies would let him pass- and those who would not were to melt upon being pierced.
Ifrit journeyed to the Halls of the Sky, which were now paved with ice. The cirrus-woven pillars were now tall and solid golems, and the fleeting clouds above were now crystalline horses, galloping snow-strewn paths back and forth at Shiva's gates. All of these creatures and more hid away when they witnessed the insignia of the Cutlass. Ifrit bellowed at her doors, and he pleaded and cried, but he never heard an answer. Only when he was on his knees and whispering of his loss did he hear the Lady Shiva crying at the other side.
Ifrit heard, and he quieted. Softly, he asked her to let him enter. Shiva cried to him, and told him that she had sealed shut her palace in her sorrow. She was the Lady of Ice now, and nothing could live in such conditions at her side. She begged him to go before he became weak with the cold, but Ifrit remained. He told her of Odin's demand, and of the punishment they would otherwise receive. Shiva begged him to let her be torn at the wrath of Lord Odin, but Ifrit roared in rage. Shiva, whether of ice or the skies, would not show such selfish and foolish fear of him. He pierced and hacked the doors until his sword melted an entry for him. There, he found not Shiva, but a Sorceress possessing her spirit.
Ifrit's rage knew no bounds. No soul had been known to hear him plead or beg, save his queen. That not only an impostor, but a mortal had tricked such emotions from him was intolerable. He cleaved the woman in two with the cutlass forged from his sorrows, and her blood flowed in the great hall of Shiva. The blood became blue, and it froze at his feet. From it rose not the queen of the skies, but now the naked, soulless goddess of the tundra and beyond. Her face was full of sorrow and she shrank from Ifrit in fear. "I thank you for freeing me of this possession, my King," she whispered, "but to touch me would cool and still your blazing heart, and to touch you would melt my being to nothing."
"I would sooner see you die at the hand of a man who bears unshaken love for you," Ifrit swore, "than see you suffer in the Tower of Void for my cowardice." He stepped forward, with what no soul, mortal or god, had ever seen: tears falling from his eyes, rising into steam from his face. Shiva's heart became not ice, but love, upon seeing this impossible sight. "Then... may our union bring knowledge and pride to the guardian gods," she declared softly.
Their union was fierce, bearing a passion and finality never before seen at the hands of gods. Queen Shiva soon melted, as did King Ifrit fall to soaking ashes. Their souls forged on, until from their waning light a spark was born. In the steaming ruins of their loving bodies was seen a flash never witnessed in the machinations of nature.
The flash stirred their remains until a giant cloud loomed in the Great Hall of Shiva, glowing and rumbling as if angry. The cloud grew larger than her palace, and Odin stood to defeat it. Odin, however, had not yet prepared himself to witness the birth of a new God, for he had underestimated the strength of the love between his children. From the cloud burst a brilliant bird of electric fire, with wings of raging storms, eyes of merciless ice, and the distant voices of flames and winds. "I am called Quetzacotl," the bird declared in its two beautiful voices. "I am the glorious union of fire and ice, and I will raze the skies and hearts of the corrupt. I will burn the dead and quench the dry. I will protect those under the blessing of Lord Odin, and I will be the soul of Odin's glory to save the Descendants of Hyne, for my chosen will be their protectors and saviors."
Odin took in hand Ifrit's Cutlass, which had been used to enter Shiva's palace and slay her forceful possessor. "With this sword forged in the heart of selfless love," Odin proclaimed, "I will name you the Knight of Hyne and those to descend from Hyne. You will protect the gift of Hyne from the tendrils of hatred, and you will be the champion of the great legacy." With this vow, Odin pierced each of Quetzacotl's wings with the tip of the Cutlass, so that Ifrit's intentions would mingle with Shiva's sacrifice. He then flung the blade into the sky, where it shattered into a cascade of stars bearing testament to the vow every Knight would make to his Sorceress from that moment on through eternity.
Upon the declaration and ritual of Odin, Quetzacotl closed its glorious eyes and shed one tear from each. These tears fell to the planet, bearing two beautiful children in the electric water. A kind old woman found them as she walked to her well, and raised them to be not siblings, but offerings of peace from the Guardian Forces. And the children grew to be the planet's first uncorrupted Sorceress, and her beloved Knight. The legacy of Hyne was again celebrated through the victory of love and loyalty.
The wounds in Quetzacotl's wings bled two drops of iridescent blood, and each drop fell to the floor of the Palace of Shiva. The ruined lovers were absorbed into these, and the palace floor was restored and clean. In the place of the tragic ruins slept two Gods: the God of Fire, and the Goddess of Ice. Reborn, they were different than they had been before, and when they awoke, they bowed before Odin in thanks. Never again did Ifrit and Shiva separate, for Ifrit was now Shiva's knight... as every chosen mortal of Quetzacotl is a Knight to every Sorceress of Hyne's legacy, now and forever.