[image description: A sweet-looking blond child sits on an undefined violet ‘ground’ marveling at the the spiraling galaxies that whirl before them. Text reads, “116, Albright, the Small God of Cosmic Wonder”]
Albright is never more than nine years old.
Albright has been nine years old for millennia, because there’s always something new in the universe to be awed and enthralled and enchanted by, some new nebula or an aurora splashed across the midnight sky, a comet slashing through the cosmos or a meteor shower falling home to earth to rest.
Albright isn’t only in the skies, of course, although that’s the easiest symbol to summarize. Albright is in the ocean, in the dance of the nudibranch and the arms of the octopus, in the nacreous gleaming of a pearl. Albright is in the forest, in the flash of a woodpecker’s wings, the shine from a serpent’s scales, the soft cap of a mushroom pushing through the loam.
Albright is in the wonder of the moment, not the meat of it, and that’s what truly matters.
Some who see Albright surrounded by swarms of fireflies or dancing on the shore during algal blooms describe the small god as a little boy, hair cropped short, feet bare, pockets bulging with secret treasures, shells and stones and green glass marbles. Others describe a little girl, hair in pigtails, skirt soaked with river water or sea spray, mud all the way up to her knees and dotting her cheeks. Most, though, see a child. Just a child, of indeterminate gender, because what does it matter, to a child on an adventure? And childhood is the greatest adventure of them all.
Albright walks with all the children, and with many adults, small hand tucked into theirs, eyes fixed on the sea, or on the sky, or on the stream, or anywhere a miracle might yet be lurking.
Wherever there is wonder, Albright is there.
Albright truly hopes that you can be there too.
Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.
Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities: