Empress of the East, Analeil Distant Song is the second oldest Le'enle. Best known among mortals for the creation of the Throneworld Genesis, once hers and then Change's following the Second Evpetren war.
Her breath was sweeter than honey. Her eyes had seen millenia pass, and she had discounted them as days. No true blood flowed through her veins, when veins she chose to have: only her soul, made liquid and hot-white, traveled through a body made of the mists that separated the manifold planes from one another, the chaos-everything mist, the Vague.
She had slender fingers, long fingers in sensitive hands. Her hair moved of its own volition, tangling and untangling in long white strands well beyond her feet. When she spoke, it was Music, and that Music called into being worlds and stars....
Her name was Analeil Distant Song. She was Le'enle.
She had felt the urge to settle, to make a true world, to become a Guardian, the culmination of her hundreds of thousands of years as a Creator. So she had summoned the Music (sweet song, sweet melody, sweet, deep power), and had made the star and the planets and the moons, and she had settled, gentle-footed, angelic, on the barren rock of the world she would make her home.
And there did she remain. And she created the trees and the air in the sky, the creatures that roamed through them, the seeds of the earth. From her kiss of life came the mountains and the stars, and her breath coaxed the moon into motion. All around her was life, and she was its impetus and its center. For fourteen years, brief as seconds to her, she lived, a whirlwind of Making, handmaiden of God. And laughing, she named it all J'e-ne's'isa: Essence of Life, Sacred.
She was not alone in those years; an accident of magicking had made from mute, mindless animal a ringtail sapient whom was named Silv. Familiar, friend, and child, Silv was the counterpoint and the reminder, so sweet and necessary: to truly live, the world must be loved. And though the love of a Le'enle creator is great, it is nothing compared to the love of those who had no part in its making.
So fourteen years (fourteen seconds, a stream punctuated by the flash of kindling suns) after the day Distant Song had plunged her hands into the raw heat of her own power, she threw open her world's Gates and sent out the webs to draw them in. Them: the ones who could appreciate. The ones who would love her world the way it deserved. The kindred spirits. They would be herchildren....
And thusly did Genesis's history truly begin.