When the gods were born, so was Spark ... though of little power, he did not lack drive, and so did not those whom he favored…
A child at court, considering the world a private playground
Once a tool awakened on purpose, the looming stones have outlived their masters but not their purpose
A life-path fraught with peril can drive anyone over the edge - until you start speaking to spirits, God or .. gods in this case
A young lady of common birth, ascended to the heights of society, and then cast down into the despair of unlife, seeking a dead love.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...