He ended the story there. This time the immersion was deeper than he expected. A tale bordering on impossibility. The haunting vividness of this knowledge caused both excitement and dread to fill his young soul.
A world destroyed by madness, desolate from a fate only known by the ghosts that once inhabited their prosperous land. At least, supposedly so. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he, an ordinary boy in the peaceful city of Yrine, contained knowledge of a forgotten realm.
Many claimed he had a vivid imagination. Some even said he had a talent for creating stories. The nightmares tell otherwise. That world is or was very real. How he came to dream of it eludes him, however.
The only benefit to his fate is the entertainment the dreams provide to a most precious person.
“Thanks for the bedtime story, Lyde. But you still stink at telling it.”
Even if that person was a mischievous little gremlin.
“Now that hurts you, ungrateful brat. That story is a true original, you know.”
Lyde grasped his heart, the stinging pain of her words echoing within. Monica, Lyde’s little sister, uncaring for his mock dismay, chuckled underneath her covers and continued her onslaught.
“Yeah, the only one you have.”
Lyde shrugged. The young fiery child had a point. He has been regaling her with tales of the mysterious man since she first understood what letters were, thanks, in no small part, to their mother for pushing an elementary education. Now, she grew older, reaching almost to his collarbone with scarlet hair cascading down her back and the morning sky shining in her eyes.
She was now at an age where she could differentiate the quality of storytelling. Though will he ever admit his sister’s accuracy? Maybe when the sun dies.
“What? You always used to enjoy that story. A love story between the last two people alive at the end of an apocalypse. You can’t get more dramatic than that.”
“The story doesn’t even tell me who they are, why they’re there, what happened to them, or how the world ended. I don’t even know their names.”
Lyde scratched his head, attempting to recall the precious detail and failing.
”Ah, yes. Names... I’m sure I will remember them by next time.”
“You’ve had these dreams for a few years now and remember everything about them, yet no names. Why is that?”
Lyde had nothing to say. Four years later and he still had no explanation for them. Sometimes the dreams were exciting and dynamic. Others were worse than any nightmare he could imagine where he would wake up screaming from a painful fate he succumbed to.
What's worse is not only the neighborhood Adept healer couldn’t cure him, Deval, a priest from the church of Order and Truth, determined the dreams as nothing special, and he is an Expert. Though… now thinking about it, he was more of an expert at draining his family’s coin.
Everyone acted as if Lyde exaggerated the dreams' terror and general oddity. They didn’t understand. When the man in his dreams starved. He could feel the gnawing beast inside scraping the meat from his own bones. When he flew in the air, the wind brushed against his face, and the air in his lungs grew thin.
The scenes were unlike any other stories he had ever heard, even the tales about Legends. And from what Lyde has seen, the man is as extraordinary, if not more so. Of course, this is thought without actually meeting a legend, but he felt it in his gut to be true.
“Lyde, come on, the next story.”
At least, his sister seems to enjoy the tales from his dreams, even if she mocks his ability to tell them.
“This time, can you tell the one about the Gourmet Legend or maybe the Angel Legend.”
Lyde scowled momentarily but quickly readjusted his expression before his sister noticed.
“Monica, don’t you think those stories are over-told? I mean, you probably hear those stories every day from your friends.”
Monica looked confused. “So? They’re Legends.”
“I just think every tale about them is over-glorified. They probably aren’t even that amazing.”
Monica’s jaw dropped. Her eyes showed she couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or horrified, so she decided both. Lyde imagines she would have the same face if he told her he ate the last of her favorite cookies, a secret he will now take to his grave.
“Lyde!!! How could you say–”
“Go to sleep, you two. Lyde, you know you have a big day tomorrow.”
At some point, a beautiful woman with hair stolen from moonlight arrived and stood in the doorway, posture straight with little effort. Lyde’s mother, Sylvia, observed her bickering children with the patience and grace of a bird of prey. Her words were stern, but the gentle joy could not be hidden in her crystal blue eyes, which Lyde inherited.
Monica pouted as she was not content with going to bed just yet. Lyde winked at his sister. “I know, Mama. We were just about to go to bed.”
Sylvia shook her head. “You know better than to lie to me. We can’t have you tired during the ceremony tomorrow. So bed now!”
Lyde winced and grumbled.
“I still don’t know how she does that.”
Monica giggled and covered her head with her blanket. Looks like his sister had turned traitor. Lyde jumped over to his bed on the other side of the room with quick light steps, vigor, and life within his veins, unwilling to be tamed just yet.
Lyde knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon. I mean, how could he? The biggest day of his life was happening tomorrow. The world would finally recognize his existence, beginning his own heroic tale of becoming the strongest Legend. At least, that is what he and everyone his age dreamt of being. His emotions were a jumbled mess of excitement, nervousness, and a minor amount of nausea. Though that might be dinner waging war after his jumping altered the battlefield.
He knew he was a little snide to Monica about the legends, but he couldn’t help himself. When he first heard their stories, he felt a slight itch in the corner of his mind. Something about the stories irked him; initially, he didn’t understand. At least until he heard the stories again from different people, over and over and over again.
Lyde noticed that in each story, the legends were portrayed as the perfect heroes, the pinnacle of charm and grace without flaw. As if they could do no wrong. These individuals were praised more often than the gods themselves. His friends constantly told him the stories were just for fun, but they bothered him nonetheless.
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No, not just bothered. The perfection irritated Lyde to his core. No person is flawless, even if they are the strongest in the world. Every man has their struggles, and no path is smooth without bumps or ditches. Even the so-called man loved by the gods must have a quirk. Maybe an inflated ego or even a scandalous affair. He would never believe their life would be so glorious while he…he...
“Lyde, are you ok?”
A small voice awoke Lyde from his thoughts. Monica’s head peeked over her covers with concern.
‘Whoa, where did that come from? I seemed to be more stressed about tomorrow than I thought.’
He assured his sister he was okay with a smile before lying in bed.
“Yea, I’m alright. Get some sleep, my little ruby.”
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“Why can’t you understand? What you’re saying is completely insane ⧫⥏#&*!”
The hazy mist shifts as a sound wave propel the cloud upwards, freezing stalagmites as the chilling mist passes through. Small three-eyed bat-like creatures fly startled as their perch quakes, and the fog rolls in. One, unfortunately, is slower than the rest as the mist catches its prey, frost creeping upon its flesh. Soon the wings grow still, and gravity reveals its cruelty as the creature unwillingly descends into the darkness. The echo of shattering glass and shards of ice disclose any evidence of the monstrosity’s existence.
The woman who caused its fate or the man she was screaming at didn’t spare the slightest glance at their surroundings. The cold mist looms at a distance as if conscious of their presence yet not daring to draw near.
“We’ve been over this, Opal; we can’t stay here anymore. Not even mentioning this literal hellhole that we call home, the world above is barren, broken, and, worst of all, boring. If we stay here, all growth stops. We will end up in a worse state than before.”
“Ok. Yes, I understand, but your so-called solution is worse than the problem. Even with our combined knowledge and abilities, we cannot know if this will even work. The results we can only speculate are either death, complete existence eradication, or hopeful mystery. Hopeful mystery, by the way, being we hope this has left us intact in someplace with life, and since we have no idea what to do afterward, we will wing it.” The woman sighed in exasperation, with frustration visible on her brow. Underneath that frustration, though, one could see fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of death, and the most prevalent, fear of loss.
The man smiled and walked gracefully towards her as if dancing to soft music. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and rocked back and forth in a rhythmic fashion. The woman let herself be swayed by the comfort, the tension on her face easing with each passing second.
“You know it annoys me when you do this. You clearly are attempting to tame me.”
The man chuckled, not bothering to hide the cynicism in his eyes.
“Yet, you also love when I do it. Otherwise, as we both know, you would have stopped me.”
The woman remained silent, but he understood her confirmation.
“What if it goes wrong? Any chance of me losing you is not a chance I will take.”
The woman closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, struggling to comprehend such a possibility. The two hugged softly, forgetting their worries and staying in the blissful moment. However, like all things, the moment ends as they loosen their hug. The man ponders for a bit.
“Hey, Opal, how about we play a little game?”
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Lyde slowly opens his eyes as he tries to recollect himself in a groggy haze. The memory of the dream remains intact and ever imprinted within his mind, but due to its peaceful nature, there is little impact on his spirit. Only further questions added to the infinite mountain of years’ accumulation. Sleep tries to whisper in his ear to lull him back into their sweet embrace. However, dreamland will have to wait as the pieces of his mind pull together to recall the nature of this particular day.
Lyde pulls himself out of the comfort of his bed, ready for the event that awaits. Excitement for the day ahead flowed through his blood. Today would be extraordinary. The dreary overcast sky, however, mocked the positivity inside him.
But he wouldn’t let that get to him; the exhaustion he felt when getting up was already enough. Lyde dragged his living carcass into the kitchen, hoping to be revitalized with breakfast. Sylvia noticing him walk in, shook her head in disapproval.
“Lyde, You are the only person on Thera… No, on all Direga who would sleep in on their Origin Day.”
“What can I say? Mornings and I still have some issues to work out.”
“Nothing early morning training won’t solve. Once I’m done with you, that habit will be gone in no time.”
Lyde’s father, Ellyas, laughed as he walked through the front entrance wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel after putting his words into action. His size did not exhibit power, but the condensed muscles hidden underneath his sweat-drenched shirt made anyone reconsider a match of strength.
He walked over to Monica, drawing her into a bear hug. She scowled in disgust from feeling his sticky clean-shaven skin upon her cheek. However, Monica didn’t deny the hug as she adored her father, with which she shared her fiery red hair.
“Honey, you know there is no training talk until after Lyde has undergone the ceremony. There will be plenty of time for discussions afterward. No influencing the path he is going to take.”
“Bah, Sylvia, don’t be so rigid. No matter what path Lyde takes, training could only improve him. In this world, it’s either eat or be eaten.”
“Oh, are you saying that he won’t succeed without training? That's strange; I don’t remember having to participate in any training regime.”
“That’s because you are plenty scary without it.”
Lyde’s father muttered to himself.
“What was that!?”
Ellyas jumped in his skin, clearly unprepared for his wife’s bat-like hearing. Lyde swore he could see a malevolent light softly radiate off his mother.
Lyde ignored the banter as he sat at the dining table next to his sister. Monica giggled, relishing all the excitement around her. Though Lyde seemed to be the primary center of her attention.
“I can’t believe you get to start living your own story. You even get to go on adventures if you want. Mom, can’t I go with him?”
Monica pouted, using her signature expression to provoke sympathy with pure unimaginable cuteness. Unfortunately for Monica, it seems her mother was immune to the effects.
“You know you still have two more years until your very own Origin Day. I mean, what kind of mother would I be if I let my 10-year-old wander the world on an adventure?” Sylvia squeezed her daughter's button nose.
“Besides, Lyde won’t be going anywhere for a few years until he masters the basics of his path and becomes at least a Fledgling, if not an Adept. And to do that, he will need training.”
Ellyas grinned as he rubbed Lyde’s already messy silver hair. Lyde grumbled, still too tired to deal with the nonsense around him.
“I only want him to understand that he has a choice and his path isn’t set in stone. We weren’t as lucky.”
The atmosphere around the table grew solemn. Ellyas comforted his wife as his upbeat attitude grew somber. Memories flashed through his mind before leaving as fast as they came.
Lyde’s parents had always been transparent about their personal experiences and history. His mother struggled in a family belonging to an oppressive and misogynistic society, a lesser subsidiary order of the Olena religion - Goddess of truth and order. At the same time, his father lost his own father to a tragedy forcing him to take a profession for monetary and survival purposes. The two worked from nothing on a path they did not choose.
Ellyas clapped, gathering everyone’s attention and disorientating the unwanted mood.
“Now, now, no need to get so glum thinking about the past. This is a time of celebration. Our hard work paid off in the form of two beautiful children; by the way, definitely, my bloodline that you can thank for, who can chase their dreams no matter what they are. Besides, I’m pretty sure we made out just fine as a rare Expert Hunter and an even more extraordinary Elite Tailor.”
Sylvia elbowed Ellyas in the gut after the bloodline comment, but the smile on her face showed her mood had changed for the better.
“OK, that’s enough talking. We are already leaving later than I wanted because of Mr. Story Teller over there, so let’s eat, get ready, and make our way to the Origin Hall.”
His mother didn’t have to tell him twice as he shoved his food down his throat. His family watched wide-eyed as he seemed to disregard the desire to breathe. Lyde’s father leaned towards his wife.
“Honey, did we forget to feed him yesterday?”
Sylvia sent a quick glare toward her husband.
“Lyde… dear… I know I said we were in a hurry, but you don’t need to eat so quickly. There is plenty of food. No one is going to steal it from you.”
Lyde shuddered before stopping completely. He looked up at his family before looking back at himself and blushed.
“Sorry, I guess I got too excited, you know, big day and all.”
Lyde’s mother made a strange expression while his father burst out laughing. Monica had sparkles in her eyes as she reached for the food on her plate with her grubby little fingers.
“Don’t even think about it, Moni.” Lyde’s mother snapped without even turning her head. Madi pouted as she grasped her fork and started eating properly again.
The breakfast returned to its peaceful state, but Lyde’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to moments before. That behavior was unusual. He couldn’t remember ever acting like that. However, at the same time, that method of eating felt…natural.