And so the Almalae had built their towers and palaces. Not needing a language, they telepathically communicated with each other across the vast miles in between them as they awaited the coming of the race that would rule over the beasts.

And then, Cardė decided that the time had come. During the night, Cardė decided that the new race should come into existence from the highest mountain on Erbadoln. Because Erbadoln was the land that was farthest to the East, and because the mountain was the highest point on Erbadoln, that mountain would be the first place to be hit by the rays of the Sun that day. Cardė decided that, as the rays hit the mountain, the newcomers would come into existence until the whole mountain was lit by the Sun and filled with the newcomers.

The Sun passed from the furthest stretches of the western shore of Almalinė and, a few hours later, the faintest tint of red could slightly be seen under the horizon in the ocean to the east of Erbadoln, and by and by it became larger and more intense. Cardė moved to the absolute highest point of the mountain. And then he beheld the first beam of the sun, and almost instantly the Newcomers were surrounding him. Cardė gazed to his right side, and then his left, to see the mountain filling with his people before his very eyes. Within a few moments, it was done.

The Sun had completely risen above the horizon now, although it still hung low. The sky was fiery red and pink, and the clouds in the East magnified the light in spots. The Sun burned a deep orange.

Most of the newcomers were amazed at what they saw around them, and in their wonder they had hardly taken notice of the sunrise, but then one near the very top of the mountain looked out into the distance at the rising sun, and he said, "Almabren!" He, of course, did not know any language, nor did he consciously decide to say "Almabren," but Cardė had gifted his newcomers with intellect, and so within moments of being created, one had just uttered the first word ever to be uttered. Several of the others around him heard the word, and they followed, crying out "Almabren!" to bring the attention of the their fellow newcomers to the sunrise. The cry spread down the mountain.

In effect, the language of the newcomers had been started, and they gave names to things for quite some time. At first, there were many names for different things, because nearly every person tried to name things, and they often had not yet heard what others had already named it, but, being blessed with high reasoning, unlike the rest of the living things that Cardė had created, and because there really wasn't a huge number of newcomers, the problem quickly fixed itself.

The newcomers named themselves the Celts, and for their language they gave the name Celtic. They named the mountain that had become their birthplace Mount Brythnaer, and to the island they gave the name Erbadoln.

Cardė, being the creator of the Celts, easily learned their language, and so he began to tell them of the Almalae who were waiting for them across the sea on the land of Almalinė. He also told the Celts that they could freely stay on Erbadoln for a while, but they soon must depart. Those who waited too long would be forced from the island and into the sea, so said Cardė.

That night, Cardė hosted a large feast for the Celts upon Mount Brythnaer, with lots of foods and meats of such a delicious flavor. After later arriving in Almalinė, some Celts noted that the foods that they ate on the sacred island with Cardė were not to be found anywhere on Almalinė. And they were telling the truth... Much of the foods that Cardė had created for that feast were never to be found again. Because of this, a small loaf of bread that one of the younger Celts brought with him with the intention of eating along the way to Almalinė became a cherished relic and was placed in a special museum near the eastern shore. Some said that the young Celt was playing a prank, but the truth remains a mystery.

The next morning after the feast, the Celts began to ponder how they could cross the sea besides swimming. Being blessed with good reason (and a little guidance from Cardė himself), they had developed the idea of a ship by that night, and by the end of the third day they had several large ships to sail to Almalinė in.

By the fifth day, most of the Celts had announced their intentions to leave with the sunrise on the seventh day. That evening, Cardė summoned all the Celts once more to the base of Mount Brythnaer for a special meeting.

Cardė said that any Celts who wished to remain behind would do so. However, Cardė informed them that anyone who stayed behind would have a special task to serve for Cardė, but what the task was Cardė could not say. However, he did say that death was a very real possibility, and, in fact, was quite likely and that only the bravest of Celts should volunteer. He told them a reward for their service was anything but guaranteed and that once they agreed to serve Cardė, they could not quit their mission until it was done or until they were dead.

He gave the Celts until sundown of the next day to decide if any would volunteer.

The stars rose and descended, and the Sun did the same, and once again the Celts and Cardė were assembled at the base of Mt. Brythnaer.

Cardė called for any volunteers to step forward towards him. All remained still for a moment, breathless, scared, terrified. Cardė looked around at the eyes of his people, and many diverted their eyes downward in shame. -- But then, from afar in the back of the crowd, one Celt, an average, middle-aged Celt, stepped forward into the void that surrounded Cardė, and he then kneeled down to Cardė.

A few, yes indeed only a few, were inspired enough by this man to step forward. They came very slowly, some of them seeming more courageous than others. Whereas one looked already highly devoted and ready to serve, another would be nearly trembling with fear, but yet all who stepped forward knew where their ultimate loyalty should belong. And so, after a good long time during which there was no word spoken, Cardė had a very small selection of Celts kneeled before him.

With that, Cardė told his courageous Celt-knights to rise and be recognized. Cardė told the many Celts who remained to honor and never forget these brave souls, for one day it may come that they do something great. And with that, he sent the remaining Celts away back to their make-shift huts on the beaches of the sacred island.

Cardė led his Celt-knights into a massive cave deep under Mount Brythnaer, and the other Celts returned to their homes. In the long years afterwards, the memory of the Celts that went with Cardė became diminished until eventually it was rarely discussed, and it existed more in old historical records than in the hearts and memories of the Celts.

On the seventh day, the Sun rose as brilliantly and magnificently as it did on the first day, and the Celts boarded their ships. One young Celt-maiden looked from the stern of the left ship of the fleet on the sacred island. She admired its massive waterfalls falling downward until they met the vast sea. She watched the beach and the trees for a long while, until finally the island shrank smaller, smaller, and still smaller until it could barely be seen in the mists of the morning, and then it was gone.

With the exception of Cardė's Celt-knights, she was the last Celt to ever gaze upon the sacred island. With its vanishing, she turned to face the west to await her arrival and new life in Almalinė...