There were, at first, three siblings. The first was the God of Iron, who valued strength and ambition above all else. The Second was the Goddess of the Hearth, who believed that love was the greatest of all forces. Last was the God of Wood, who prized even ignorance and lies as founders of chaos.
The three took it into their heads to create something together and leave a living mark on the world. The Iron God spoke first – what they created must be, first and foremost, strong. Its virtue would be might and commitment, force of will. What they deemed to be possible would be possible, and naught would stop them.
The Hearth Goddess spoke next. No, the strength of the creation would not be in personal might, but in the group. They would bond together, speak as brothers and sisters. They would not have to conquer the world, for they would live as one with the world.
The Wooden God spoke last. Neither of them would live in the world as it was. Virtue was not in might, for the day will come when age robs strength and a mightier opponent sees them. There was only one path to success, and it was a winding, twisting way. These creations would be clever above all, reliant on the strength not of their arms, but of their minds. They would work with the world, but only so those of cunning could climb up upon those of feebler mind.
They argued this for a time, until they fell to violence. The fury washed out in a terrible storm, until one of them was struck dead. Where the god died, the great Sea of Cerenaria broke open.
When the survivors saw what they had done, they were filled with horror. To cover the body, they filled the sea with the water of the oceans. This done, they decided to create a monument for the fallen sibling. Together, they wove the world. While they worked with diligence to create a being living to the ideals of the fallen sibling, they had nothing to work with save their own essence, and Humanity’s strain was purely their own, bent into a shape like that of their sibling. This done, the two hid themselves from all knowledge, becoming the Hidden Gods.
There exists, then, a schism. Which of the siblings was slain, and which of the siblings lived. Within that question lies the center of creation.