And then everything stopped. I was still moving. Waves no longer crashed. Shrapnels never left the explosion. The rain never reached the ground. He was still moving. Howling wolves fell silent. Clenched fists never opened again.

I’ve been here for less than a second, more than an eternity. At least I was not alone, my jailor was also a prisoner. His endless speeches were grating yet I haven’t gotten sick of him. Being stuck in an endless prison of time has taken its toll on me. Or he was just a good speaker.

I’ve accepted the current terms a while ago, or I just believed that I did. I have tried everything in my power to escape being buried alive in time but to no avail. The gemcraft itself is completely invulnerable, its nature of time should explain that, and I’ve beaten the man to death many times. Inside this “bubble” nothing could happen or change. Only thing you could do is to speak and think.

This was the end of my journey, my call to action, my story. Of course, everyone will interpret that story in their own way and I can not say it was a story of a hero or a villain. But I knew well that it was a good story. Unlike the ones you can find in the grand library of Bridgegarde, this one was truly grand.

“If I tell you my story, can you never explain your honeypea theory again?”

I asked with newfound curiosity. And that theory didn’t make any sense at all.

“I knew making up that theory would work. If you just told me when I asked you, both of us would still enjoy honeypea. I should’ve picked something else…”

He was a good listener, if you can ignore his nonsensical quips.

“Oh but please spare me the whole, my parents died in front of me and the world was not just. I am filled to the brim with those stories.” He cut me off before I even had a chance.

“Too bad for you my parents indeed died in front of me and our world is also not just. However, none of these things made me or my story. In the end, those are just facts you can find in recordings.”

I stopped to gauge his reaction. He was still listening, so I continued.

“My then-alive parent named me Aine. I liked that about being a diamond, picking our names instead of trying to fit the mold that is forced by selfish all-powerful beings. Then the bad part of being a diamond came in, living. I grew up in Bridgegarde, spending my days gazing at the endless abyss of Voidmountains.”

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I was gonna continue but he finally cut me off.

“Ugh stop it. I already told you that I don’t want to hear another sob story. I am not a bit surprised that I am the first one to listen to it. Now continue but make it interesting this time.”

He didn’t smirk or mocked me with his expression. He was serious.

I took my time, the one thing that we had. I rewinded my short diamond life and went over everything. The roads I traveled, the faces I’ve met, and the lives that came to an end because of me. They were haunting me, but I felt no regret. There was a strong belief that still held firm behind those actions. You can call it justification but it wasn’t that simple.

Our world, Gemsoil, was corrupted long ago. Beings that called themselves “Eji’derr” invaded it. At first, everyone was equal, human. Then those immature gods offered them “gifts”. Humans gained powers like moving mountains, having eternal youth or growing beastly features.

Seven gods brought seven gems which all molded their own version of humans. But there was an exception among them. The Diamond didn’t have a “gift” for us. Instead, it formed around our hearts, sapping away at our life energy. We couldn’t talk to crustaceans, cure wounds or form molten rocks. We were still human, in the new world of demigods.

I felt the rage and righteousness that got me this far stir up once again inside of me but he cut me off.

“If you had the option to choose, would you have chosen a different gem to be born with?”

This made me cool down to complete stillness. I quite literally had all the time to think before answering. But there was no need to think when I already knew the answer.

“If there was an option to choose, then it would make this whole thing just. I am surprised that you are even asking me this. Do you think I did all of this because I am jealous of others? That I am angry because some serpent didn’t give me bear claws?”

It didn’t really offend me but I was curious.

“I’m just trying to understand. I can feel the hatred and passion inside of you very clearly… But I do struggle to understand what’s causing it…”

His usual fast-paced quips and rhythm weren’t here. I waited for him to collect his mind. He made a bitter expression and spoke again.

“I guess I have to listen to your awful sob story to understand. Even if those ‘facts’ are bland and boring, that is no excuse to be a bad storyteller. I once listened to a firerose talk about its family tree just because it was a good storyteller. Even a plant freak like me has its limits.”

His fast-paced mockery was back. I had a weird feeling because I felt relief when I heard him return to his usual self.

“We have all the time to practice my storytelling skills so it shouldn’t be an issue after some training. So…”

Since this is the end of my journey, all that remains is the story of it.