On the 4th day of the 14th month, the border where the Kingdom of Vi-Vintane Amness met the Ensorcelled Forest was cold. The region between the great mountain range to the northwest and the Green River—flowing southward from the mountains into the forest—was known as the "Free Lands," for it was free of the lingering radiation from ancient spells that still plagued both the forest and the mountains. The citizens of the border town of Narcissus, however, were not having a good day.
As the matter of fact, it was probably more accurate to say, they were not having a good week, a month, or maybe two months? The point was, that tonight was definitely not a good night.
If one looked from the Beyonder's point of view, they would see a town illuminated by the silver and blue rays of twin moons. They would see everything white, a courtesy of a week long blizzard; snowdrifts so tall one would confuse them for hills, trees for giants with the white beards, a river for…
"Well now, that doesn't seem right," a boy whispered excitedly, imagining himself a great writer, a steerer of fates—or something even grander.
... If one looked over north-east, they would see freezing refugees from Narcissus fleeing toward a nearest city. Yet, if one was truly a Beyonder, and not merely an outsider observing from above, they would hear the ominous whispers of the wind, feel snow more chilling than any cold should, taste magic in the air despite being nearly a hundred kilometers into the Free Lands , and see that shadows are longer and deeper than any two-dimensional projections have right to be.
Or they could be just proficient enough in magic to behold all those things. Alas, no one around Narcissus has such abilities, perhaps no one in the whole of Midgard is that proficient in sorcery, for magic is dead, and has been for a long time.
The door blew open with the loud Bang, nearly blowing off the hinges and definitely not leaving an indentation in the wall, making the boy of around nine to jump in the display of such prowess that would leave even úmarya rabbits envious.
"What is it, Sis? I have not done anything yet."
" I know, and that is exactly why I am here. Mom said you have an essay due tomorrow and asked me to check it."
"Ah, yes, of course. I haven't forgotten. Who do you take me for? I already submitted it," the boy stammered, mumbled, and tried to sound as confident as any child lying about homework.
"Miss Agartha sent Mother a letter. She said you were the only one who hadn't submitted it yet and that you had until midnight."
" Haaa….. At least let me see what you wrote, and I will help you a little. Besides, I sensed you using some faith, so I am also curious."
" Ah, it is nothing, let me get my papers. I did not lie that I finished it. I was planning to send someone to get it to Miss Agartha."- the boy grabbed his notebook to hide his scribbles as fast as possible. Yet, his elder sister wrestled it out of his hands with the grimace of rage and horror.
"Are you at it again? Playing yourself a god? Was last time not enough when you almost killed that village? Let's see what you have done this time." Snarled the girl, perusing through the notebook with outer distaste.
"I ama god! And so are you. I am just using my gifts and not hiding them, pretending to be a mere mortal." Boy responded with clear distaste in his tone. "Besides, I learned my lesson. They might be mortals, but I still do not want to kill anyone. I was writing what I saw. Call it a book, a story, whatever. I just like writing, and I did not even touch fate, just peaked to see if there is something interesting."
"Elays, you can write, just do not use faith. Words have more power than you or I understand. Who knows when it comes back to bite you? And here, you made so many mistakes, it just pains me to look at it. You should read more before you put those words to quill. "
While she was reading his embarrassing disaster, Elays went rummaging through his room to find wherever it was he threw his essay. He had strong suspicions that it was somewhere behind his bed, and he dreaded it.
Last time, he found quite a nasty magical spider that spooked him to no end, and it was definitely not his fault that he regularly dropped some magical foods for spider to feast upon . His battle with it had been so epic that he had a breakthrough in faith manipulation during the fight. He was just remembering the reason he did not get his essay despite finishing it two weeks ago- a scrambled pocket dimension. There was a scrambled dimension under his bed, because he might have left lesser dimensional stones ,he stole from his fathers office three months back, uninsulated .
"By the way, what was that tone I heard? There are a lot of mortals in Asgard, and you know it" the girl sighed. "I do not mind much. I had a similar phase when I was your age, but mother will not hear it. Better be careful around her." Girl put the notebook on the table and went to see the essay wherever it was .
"Why would you even use faith? I did not see anything important there, especially since you were not playing with fate."
" I just wanted to use it, it seemed right. You know, like itch that was right to scratch or something similar."
"One does not waste faith on scratching an itch. How much have you left from your allowance? And you could have used it to help that town, they seem to be in trouble. They are small, but they do have a Church of Minor Gods. Could have helped them and maybe gotten yourself some believers for the trouble." said Anna as she peaked under the bed.
Elays ,feeling guilty for not thinking of this, grabbed the essay and bolted to the other side of the room fearing the collapse and subsequent explosion of the scrambled dimension.
"I just wanted to experiment a bit. Got a little curious about what makes faith, ah. What is the word, strengthened? Yeah, strengthened words so powerful. I just wanted to experiment a bit, do not bother about it."- Elays whispered from his hiding place.
"So, will you help them or maybe tell mother? Her priests or paladins might just reach in time. Or she might cast a spell or two herself, I always wanted to see that."
"Enforced or empowered are the words you are looking for. But, no. I will neither tell mom nor help myself. You do not see mortals as anything important, but in a real game, they are more important than a god playing on their side. Thus, you need to let them struggle and develop, and I sense something interesting is going to happen there soon" responded Anna as she peaked from the wardrobe she was hiding in, expecting the explosion that did not come.
Anna helped Elays from the desk he was hiding under, and the two left the room to find someone to deliver the essay. If someone was listening in, they would have heard Anna cheerfully offering to help observe the situation of Narcissus and help to record it as Elays's first proper story if what she sensed was truly happening.
And, oh, yes. There was a peeper there, though not for the reasons one might have expected; besides, if not for the peeper, a certain explosion would have definitely happened . Somewhere, in Midgard, _______ ______ sighed.
"Children. I would have expected Eleonore to raise them better, but we have all been young and dumb. Though, a pipsqueak does have a talent for faith for me to have sensed it."
"Oh well, now would be as good time as any."
In Elays's room, his notebook's papers rustled softly as they flipped open on their own. As a certain page finally opened, a quill floated above it. If anyone was in his room, they would see the most brilliant shade of gold dripping from its tip. A shade, so radiant and all-encompassing, that even Eleonore - Anna and Elays' mother, one of the Seven Major Gods - would have felt small in its presence.
That shade of gold, that droplet of whatever it was, contained more fervor than the most devout of believers, more mystic than any known magic, more authority than the most tyrannical of emperors, more stubbornness than even most unmovable knights , more benevolence than the kindest of angels, more malice than the worst of devils, more destruction than the most powerful of demons and titans…
It contained many things, and they were more than there could be, for it was a droplet of the very essence of magic. So by coincidence or the fate's design, silly observations written by a little boy, were used as a gateway to the very fabric of reality itself. Perhaps, to remind even to it; perhaps, to just reinstate what was known; perhaps, to resurrect what was forgotten even by the ones who slayed it, doused it; perhaps, we will never known why it was written, especially now, but it was.
"There are things that should not come to mind even as the darkest of thoughts, not uttered even as the worst of curses, not written even as the most stringent of bindings. But, they do."
Thus, to correct the gravest of wrongs, a quill dropped and erased :
".... for magic is dead, and has been for a long time."
and wrote, in brilliant golden script, instead:
FIRES OF MAGIC ARE DOUSED, LAY EXTINGUISHED. YET, EMBERS ARE STILL HOT. STILL THERE, WAITING, FOR THE WORTHY TO SEEK THEM, TO REACH FOR THEM, AND BURN AS THE BRIGHEST OF STARS COULD NEVER DREAM. THEY LAY THERE, WAITING, FOR ENOUGH KINDILING-BEARERS TO FIND THEM, FOR THOSE DARING ENOUGH TO PROVIDE BUT A SPARK, SO THAT THEY COULD BURN AGAIN, AS WHEN THEY FIRST RAGED.
And the reality shook, with excitement, with expectation, with hope. For, even though, it had no true will, it had sentience, well just a barest of emotions to be exact, but it ,too, loved stories.
Not privy to anything that was happing, Doubte reached Narcissus by the sunset of the same day, 4th day of the 14th month.