Welcome back to the Pantheon, Natia!
How's everyone feeling after that electrifying semi-finals showdown? We're dying to know your thoughts on the results and, of course, the dazzling spectacle itself. Or was it rather dull? Natia, spill the tea! Which verse stirred your soul or tickled your funny bone? And remember, for the nations that didn't quite make it to the Grand Final, your own poetic gems are ready for you as well.
Before we dive into the epic Grand Final centred around a mythical end-of-the-world story that has us all bewitched, bothered, and bewildered, let's see some voting updates and reminders. The deadline for casting your ballots is looming on the horizon like a Vīśā's storm cloud. Mark your calendars, set your alarms, and tell your neighbours, because Saturday, 23rd September, 2023, at Midnight CET is when we stop the count. There's a sneaky chance that the deadline might extend by a day, but we'll keep you posted well in advance. So stay vigilant, dear voters!
We've got some eager nations who've already cast their votes! Kudos to Griffin Empire (lol), Mormadorei, Öösingimäed, Roseland, Pen Island, Sakuralia and Afnia for getting the party started. You're setting the pace, and we love it!
Now, let's dive into the main attraction of this edition – the grand myth of the end of the world! This year's Grand Final is centred around a tale so captivating that even the goddesses themselves are taking notes (mostly how to survive). It's a tale of prophecy, heroes, villains and a fate that hangs in the balance. Trust us when we say this is a showdown you won't want to miss.
So, gather your allies, summon your muses, and cast your votes! May the best song win!
A long long time ago, the world once knew an elusive peace, a tranquillity that blanketed the realms like a whispering lullaby. It was a time when the goddess Dārtā, embodiment of pollution's malevolence, found herself ensnared beneath the impenetrable shroud of the Stuppa — an arcane monument, a colossal monolith of solid, enchanted rock etched with cryptic runes and boundless spells. Resting atop her neither living nor dead, but held in a torturous paralysis, the world's deities and denizens revelled in their newfound harmony.
But alas, goddesses are not easily tamed. The moment the first cracks appeared on the stuppa, Dārtā, with her boundless wrath, broke free from her earthly prison. With vindictive fury, she descended upon the lands, poisoning the southern forests, tainting the eastern mountains, sullying the western beaches, and melting the northern ice. She began to unfurl the initial chapters of the world's apocalyptic tome.
In her wake, two formidable deities joined her malevolent crusade. Ørvā, mistress of hate, and Ïķlā, harbinger of death, allied their wickedness with Dārtā's cause. The very touch of these trio of tormentors spelled ruination. The world trembled as it crumbled beneath their furious feet.
Initially, all of the benevolent goddesses stood bewildered, observing the chaos. They watched as the forces of revenge swept over humanity. But when the world teetered on the precipice of oblivion, their cries of despair pierced the heavens. Together, they hatched a clandestine plan to halt the three rogue goddesses.
Meanwhile, on Natia, the world buckled under the strain. Animals fell lifeless, humans clashed in vicious strife, and wars ignited like funeral pyres. Ørvā and Ïķlā enjoyed their newfound power, turning their terrorizing tendencies to overdrive. Their cataclysmic confrontation rent the world asunder, a whirlwind of cosmic conflict.
Amid this frenzied maelstrom, Ůxą, the goddess of beginnings, stood untouched, her essence radiant and undiminished. She observed the chaos, parsing its enigmatic lessons, grappling with the uncertainty of what to do next. She knew one thing: she was indestructible and destined to endure.
In the throes of the great clash, the alliance of good goddesses found themselves outmatched by the unholy trio. But as the trio turned against each other, destruction consumed them, the void hungrily swallowed their malevolence, and the heavens sighed in relief. Gone, vanished, and forgotten, not a trace remained of the goddesses who once sought to dismantle the world. However, there was no world left either.
Ůxą, now named Ëtą, meaning "the one," stood alone in the cosmic void, contemplating the lessons hard-learned, the price of fate, and the wisdom etched into the remnants of existence. From the debris of destruction's maw, Ëtą, the only, the all-powerful, weaved a tapestry of cosmic light. She summoned the embrace of the elements, giving birth to a new world, teeming with vibrant flora, flourishing fauna, and the nascent breath of life. Thus, the eternal cycle commenced anew, from the depths of chaos to the heights of creation. And Ëtą continued to watch over the tapestry of existence, a benevolent and all-seeing guardian of the cosmic dance, forever the keeper of the world's fragile destiny.
s and 1 
