In the beginning, before the hum of wind or the whisper of water, there was only the Creator—and the great silence of the void. With purpose wrapped in love and vision kindled in cosmic light, the Creator wove the world of Chromaria, a land that would shimmer with sacred hues and thrive beneath the watchful eye of harmony.
If you are someone who is into mythological adventure, then you need to get your hands on Clayton Demera’s Chromaria, which is no ordinary mythological tale. It is the dawn-song of a universe born not only from power, but from color, spirit, and destiny.
From the breath of the Creator came forth the land, the waters, and the vast heavens. But it was not enough for the Creator to shape mere earth and sea; He desired sentience, order, and stewardship. And so, from the swirling mists of the world’s birthing cry, the Tribes of Color emerged—each one born under a divine purpose, each one painted with a hue reflecting its essence.
Among the final tribes birthed in this sacred genesis was the Red Tribe, the fifth to grace the land. When the Creator called forth wildlife—those that soar through the heavens, glide beneath the waters, and run with thunder over plains—it was the Red Tribe that was appointed their sacred guardians. They were endowed with dominion over the wild, not with control alone, but with the deep knowledge of birth, life, and death. They were to honor the rhythms of nature, to know when to cradle a newborn fawn and when to walk beside a dying stag. Theirs was the dance of the wild, feral yet reverent, instinctual yet wise.
Then, as the world neared completion, the Creator fashioned a mighty mountain, its peak shrouded in mists, nearer to the heavens than any other land. Upon this summit, the Purple Tribe was born—the sixth tribe, the tribe of spirit. Unlike the others, their duty was not to tend to the earth or sea, but to the souls of the people. They became the seers, the prophets, the keepers of sacred truths. The Creator blessed them with the wisdom of the ages, granting them the rare gift of proximity to divinity. Their voices would echo like wind through the valleys, offering guidance in times of strife and balance in times of abundance.
But even after six tribes, the Creator’s love overflowed still. And so, in a final act of grace, He formed the Indigo Tribe, the seventh and last. Not from necessity, but from joy and abundance. This tribe was born not to conquer, not to lead, but to serve—to bring joy, laughter, and wonder into the hearts of all. Through music, storytelling, theater, and spectacle, they became the keepers of hospitality, the celebrants of unity. Where other tribes cultivated land or law, the Indigo Tribe cultivated the human spirit.
Then, the Creator surveyed the beauty of what had been birthed, He gathered a single drop of blood from the firstborn of each tribe. He raised His hands to the heavens, and from this sacred mingling of life, the blood ascended.
Thus, the world of Chromaria was sealed with promise—a living pact painted across the heavens. The rainbow is more than light and water; it is the divine reminder that balance among the tribes is not merely ideal but sacred. Each color, each tribe, each soul has its place in the Creator’s grand design.
