《Through the Vortex》42: Nova's Story
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Selina’s smile stiffened at those words. “N-no, I wouldn’t say that.”
{What is going on?} the white-haired boy asked, noticing the change in mood.
He didn’t seem to be able to understand English, so Howard wondered how they had communicated with the woman while traveling together. Or rather, how she had communicated with them.
“Oh, my bad. People like you prefer the word special,” the woman realized.
“Why do you seem so eager to start a fight?” Selina asked, “Isn’t this the first place you have been able to enter since coming here?”
“The fira tend to be like that,” Sanders replied before the woman could answer, “I am more curious as to how you got here in the first place. I have been checking but accidental passage shouldn’t be that easy to this world.”
“I am not entirely certain it was accidental,” she answered., “I was pretty desperate to go somewhere I would not be recognized as a fira. Not that it did me much good.”
Sanders gestured for her to go on, ignoring the glares of the children, who likely still didn’t know what was going on.
{She is telling her story,} Dorian made sure to tell them before anything happened.
“Getting here wasn’t that difficult, but I think that is recent,” the woman explained, “I tried to do the same thing before but it didn’t work. However, after I got here I quickly found out that my eyes would be a problem here as well. Still, with the colonies being so far apart it is much easier to hide here, and my fire magic easily takes care of the predators.”
“What is your fire magic like?” Selina asked with interest.
“Fire? I am not sure exactly what you are expecting. I can just control fire.”
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“Yes, but can you summon it, or maybe breathe fire like a dragon?” Selina asked.
“Summoning isn’t the right word. I can influence conditions to start a fire, and then I can make that fire do whatever I want.”
“So you can summon fire!”
The woman sighed. “Fine. But I definitely don’t breathe fire.”
“How did you come to pick up the children?” Sanders asked.
“Ah, that,” she said, “Actually, I found them while I was wandering. They had run away from their colony because they were being hunted.”
“Do you know why they stuck with you? They don’t appear to understand what you say,” Sanders prompted.
“I suppose it is similar to dealing with someone who is mute,” she said with a shrug. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it.
“I see… Do you know what happened to the children in the colony?” Sanders questioned, “Other than the obvious, of course.”
“They are siblings. The one with white hair is the oldest, but the other two are twins. Apparently, he was ordered to dispose of his siblings so that their curse would not rub off on him and he refused.”
Howard winced. He had thought that Azul’s story was dark, but it was clear there were many Sages in this world that were heartless. The people of Feroz were supposedly peaceful, but that made them easily subject to the fear of what might happen if the peace were to end. That was one of the downsides of the detailed records telepathic marks made.
“You could have easily found somewhere to settle down,” Sanders muttered, seeming slightly confused, “Why didn’t you?”
“The children. I seem to be fine eating the plants outside of a colony but I have to trade with them often to get food that does not make them sick. Meat is fine but that is hardly a healthy diet.”
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“The purification of the fountain,” Selina realized, “I wonder if they grow out of that naturally, or if it is something that has to be learned.”
“Or if it something that can’t be learned,” Howard added, “This isn’t the first generation they have relied on the fountains.”
“Then what about the Crimson Colony?” Selina asked Sanders.
“They have a fountain,” Sanders replied, “People who awakened to Dream can still be Sages. At least I assume so since the Sage there has red eyes.”
“By the way, what is your name?” Selina asked the woman, “And the names of these children?”
“My name is Nova, but I do not know the names of the children,” she answered.
Selina turned to the children. {What are your names?} she asked.
The white-haired boy scowled. {We don’t have names.}
Selina was surprised. {Do children not have names here?}
{Children are named after their ceremony,} Dorian explained, {It is possible that his two siblings don’t have names.}
{I understand,} Selina realized, {Then, how about we name you? We are Sages. If you are alright with that.}
The little girl with red eyes looked up. {Will you really give us names?}
{Sure,} Selina promised.
{Don’t choose them too lightly, Selina,} Dorian warned, {Names have a lot of meaning here.}
{A lot of meaning in what way?} Selina asked.
{A name is something like a pass given by the Sage that helps decide their future,} Dorian explained.
{Oh,} Selina replied, suddenly nervous.
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8 179Ephemeral World
Our story takes place in a world far different from the one we know. A world where magic reigns supreme rather than science. Majestic castles and huge walls stood mightily across the lands. The largest continent of this world has 4 major kingdoms waging war at each other, the elves that reside on the east, dwarves on the northern side, the west is inhabited by the beastkin, and humans strives to survive in the south. The warring state of this world lasted for 600 years and stopped when all the oracles of each kingdom received the same prophecy which was "Whilst the residents of this world fights one another, a great catastrophe shall engulf it. An abominable race shall arrive and shall take over this world". And thus, the kingdoms agreed and joined forces with each other to protect this world. The catastrophe arrived, the great war of the alliance against the abominable race which they called Epivious commenced. The war lasted for many years, countless lives were taken. With the alliance at a disadvantage, they decided to summon heroes from different worlds to help them.
8 105Toothpick
“Hello! My humble audience! I, the Bard of the North, am going to tell you a tale. Nothing new, nothing old. A story of a hero, some may say, others a poor boy who was hated by the world.” The storyteller paused as he waited, right timing was everything when telling a story. Pacing… Too slow and the audience became bored then left without tossing even the smallest of coins. If he spoke too fast and rushed the story. It would leave the audience confused and having no reason to be impressed. So like any good storyteller, the Bard has to do a balancing act of sorts. Not too slow, not too fast. Just perfectly in the middle. “In a shattered country in the south, a novice princeling has the ambition to mend a torn tapestry that is his birthplace. Struggling to fend off those who would usurp the throne in an unending civil war spanning centuries. A mercenary that left only death in his wake, unable to stave off the monotony and peace of life. He looks back at the path laden with bodies, wondering if it was all worth it. Wandering souls summoned by a madman, travel away from a wasteland in a foreign land, the first alone, the others as companions. A deity, ancient in her years, waiting to be freed from a duty she no longer enjoys. For all these people and their stories, none are the hero of this tale. No, the hero is not grand, not wise, not ready.. he was punished for nothing of his doing, who was an outcast that was unloved by many, including his father.” This was always the big reveal novices use to jump off into their story. He did not start here, instead, like any good fishermen, he set the bait and waited until the fish bit before pulling. As he saw the audience's eyes focus, he then started the backstory. The harness, that stopped the listeners from having metaphorical whiplash. The foreshadowing. “But that is not where the story starts. No, not even the hero's birth. Where the story begins, is the boredom of the deity, a deity many know of. She who hunts for the impossible, the guide for those who have lost the path, the Huntress of Mallon--” A small pause, a short breath. “--All old names for a single powerful being that has roamed the grounds of this continent longer than any line of kings or queens, lords or ladies. A being of worship for many an individual…” One last breath. And he began singing the first verse.
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