Ends come for all things.
Everything that is, everything that was, everything that could have been.
I was there on that ancient day in the heart of Dellium, I bore witness to mans lust for power. The day of mans end.
It began at mans finest hour, united in victory against the forces of a darkness, so ancient, not even I remember whence it came. Man united with the gods drove back the darkness cleansing the taint infecting Eronel, once the greatest and wisest of the gods.
But the darkness deceives even in defeat, for it alone could not kill a god. Whispers of a flame capable of unharnessing the very power of the Eronel reached ancient Dellium.
The hearts of man are fickle, swayed by power. What should have been mans final victory was twisted to seal their eventual defeat. A great flame was constructed to prevent man from ever suffering another war against the dark.
Eronel was stripped of his power and in the struggle against the gods the once great city of Dellium was lost. Yet the flame worked, the Kings of Alendria ruled with divine power and the gods retreated from the domain of man.
Ages pass; memories fade. Oaths once spoken fade into whispers. The enduring stones surrender their memories to dust. And now few remain who remember the tale.
For ten thousand years, the once great bonfire raged in the heart of Alendria, a shining beacon at the heart of humanity. Now but a candle flickers on the edge of life. For not even a god's power can resist the passage of time. Even a god has an end.
Where a light dims, darkness grows. Agents of the ancient foe, not seen in centuries scour the land.
Man stands alone, betrayer of the gods.
In the growing dark of the final years of man, destiny weaves its final tapestry and I alone stand on the edge. If I do nothing, mans fate is sealed.
Yet hope remains as long as the flame burns true.
Intricate threads of fate fray, and those with the strength to shape the dawn of a new era may yet arise.
For what was lost in the ancient days of Dellium may once again be found.
I am as God as You: Chapter 1 - A beginning at the End [https://i.imgur.com/InJSnOF.jpeg]
The cold white stretched unending. The Cliffs of Dunnel, once domineering and ever present on the horizon, lay unseen, lost in a violent clash of ice and snow. Elias trudged on, alone, unprotected, each step less sure than the last.
The storm raged. Ice and snow bit into his exposed skin. Each step required focus, each step harder than the last, each step inviting disaster. If he fell, Elias doubted he had the strength to get back up.
The storm ahead terrified Elias, but what he left behind was worse. His breath caught in his throat at the thought of the Drask. His parents told tales of creatures, savage and wild, but the reality seemed much, much worse than words could convey. Being near one felt like an aura of dread enveloped him. The primal hunters' bodies wrought with wiry muscle and sinew. Their teeth were rotten and chipped. Even their eyes, set deep in their face, glinted with a feral glee at catching their next meal.
The previous day Elias was out hunting when the Drask attacked, hunting him as he hunted his prey. Once he spotted at the very edge of his vision then, the chase began. Their larger bodies closing the distance, kilometre by kilometre. Where once they were specs on the horizon, quickly they, with an unending stamina, closed in. With each step, they forced him away from his tribe, away from safety, until the first snow of winter began.
The snow started out as a blessing, helping him lose his pursuers, but quickly turned against him as night fell far from warmth and safety.
Elias longed for the small campsite he made that night, the warmth of the fire dancing between two rocks, the shelter against the wind. It felt like a distant memory. He wouldn't make it back, even if he could find the rocky outcrop in the storm again. His only choice was to continue forward, across the flat barren plain before the cliffs.
Elias cursed him for a fool to have thought it safe to make a fire. The Drask attacked at morning's light, finding his fire. He fled into the growing storm before they saw him. He had quickly got turned around in the snow, unable to see more than a few meters ahead of him. His only chance to survive lay across the plains, away from the Drask, who surely waited only for the storm to clear to continue their hunt. He could shelter against the storm in the shadows in the cliff face, riddled with caves and crevices and find his way back to his tribe once the weather cleared.
Each step through the heavy snow brought less pain than the last as numbness took hold amidst the howling wind.
Elias cried out as he fell to his knees, stumbling. His voice drowned out into nothing against the howl of ice and snow. Snow quickly collected and covered his calves. Tears froze in his eyes, his muscles strained and trembled with exhaustion as his strength left his body. Numb and frozen, Elias pushed up, mentally forcing his body through the pain as he slowly lifted off the ground, inch by inch.
He fell back to his knees, his head spinning, chest heaving, fighting for breath. Each breath filled with pain, bringing the frozen air inside.
"Eronel, Solanar, Veloria, Ardin, Theryn, anyone," Elias cried, naming the gods in desperation. He could not explain why. The gods had left the world of man. They would not come. If anything they were why he was going to die. He cursed them in his mind.
Moments stretched into minutes. Elias did not return to his feet. Cold and defeated, the white engulfed him up to his thighs. No strength remained as he faced the storm, unable to continue, unable to admit defeat.
Elias didn't remember falling. A warmth spread through his body as he lay in the snow.
No one will ever find me, Elias thought.
His tribe, the Moorhaven, would not pause their migration to look for him. Winter coming early would force them to hurry through the passage in the cliffs into the temperate Kingdom of Alendria.
Elias reached forward, dragging a handful of snow back as he crawled forward, fighting for each inch. Each inch was a victory in battle with the storm.
Figures danced in the corners of his vision. The ground would not move, or was it his body that refused to obey? He could not tell. The warmth in his body slowly morphed into an unbearable heat as he lay face down in the snow. He weakly pulled at his tunic as rational thought fled his mind and darkness took over.
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Elias woke up to the most annoying tune he had ever heard.
The snow killed me, there is no other explanation, Elias thought.
The Caldewey family cart rocked back and forth, following the Moorhaven migration baggage train on its endless journey towards the Dunnel foothills. Towering cliffs loomed in the distance, never getting any closer. Elias's father whistled the awful tune of "Ode to the Vale" from the cart box seat. In his father's defence, the tune hadn't started out that way. Almost a year waking up to the same tune would do that to any song. A year of the same day repeating itself over and over.
Eldar Holloway isn't going to like those clouds, Elias thought, predicting the next words to come out of his father's mouth.
"Eldar Holloway isn't going to like those clouds," Fenwick, Elias's father, said, interrupting his melody.
Elias sighed.
It was the same every day, every day he woke up on the same piece of road. His father whistling the same song. The same conversations, everyone exactly where they were the day before, doing the same things, and only Elias seemed to remember.
Ever since he passed out in the snow, he was trapped. Three days before he presumed he had died, living the day in a never ending repeat for over a year.
Hey o father, Elias thought.
"Hey o father!"
Elias didn't bother to turn to the sound of a trotting horse. He knew Zane, his oldest brother, would rein his horse alongside the family cart. Zane was 5 years older than him and had recently become a Moorhaven tracker, riding out each day, finding game and ensuring the path ahead was safe for the convoy slowing making its way towards Alendria through the Dunnel Cliffs.
"Back so soon?" Fenwick, Elias's father, asked his oldest son.
"Eldar Holloway called the trackers back to the convoy. He doesn't like the clouds. The front of the convoy is making camp an hour or so ahead."
"Ah! Did I not say Eldar Holloway wouldn't like the clouds just moments ago!" Fenwick, the boy's father, proudly exclaimed.
The same thing every day.
"He really called it this time Zane." Elias said dryly. Elias had long since found things went easier if he just played along as if he hadn't sat through this same conversation this over and over.
"This time?" His father mocked outrage.
Zane chuckled, "Eldar Holloway, I daresay, is the most stubbornly set in his ways of anyone in Moorhaven. A mule would know he would stop us early for the night seeing those clouds!"
Elias's father scoffed. "I can think of a few others more stubborn!"
I am definitely dead. Elias thought. Next, Zane would tell him Master Pelgeway, the Moorhaven bowmaster at arms, wanted him to ride ahead to the camp to continue his lessons. After that he he be free to leave.
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"Oh, before I forget, Elias, Master Pelgeway wanted you to ride up to the camp to continue your bow practice."
"That man keeps Elias too busy. Who is going to help me with the cart?"
Zane smiled. "I will keep you company. If you can beat me in a game of Runes, I might even help you unpack once we reach camp."
Thank Eronel that is over, Elias thought.
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Elias stabled Zane's horse with the other horse gathered at the entrance of the emerging Moorhaven campsite. He waved at Emea, the Moorhaven horsemaster, making sure she saw him return the horse. Emea smiled and flashed him a thumbs up.
"No visits from Eldar Holloway today, Elias." Emea shouted.
Elias pressed his hands together in thanks towards Emea. One of the most annoying ways the day could go was to receive a visit from Eldar Holloway. The horses were the most valuable resource the Moorhaven owned. When a family failed to return a horse on time, Eldar Holloway would often show up at their doorsteps. Elias rolled his eyes, remembering the last speech about why it was important to return the horses on time, how without the horse stock, it would be impossible to continue the migration. He had even threatened Elias with becoming a farmer and having to stay on one small patch of land his entire life, answering to whatever local lord claimed ownership of the land he lived on.
The lecture had been especially painful to listen to knowing everything would just reset in the morning. He found it hard to care about any of this.
Elias entered the emerging camp; he had a routine that kept his interactions with others to an absolute minimum. If he just went and sat in the clearing in the centre of the campsite, everyone would be too busy to speak to him for hours. He could go hunting, which accomplished the same thing, and there was always something new to see out in nature. However, while months of solid of hunting had drastically improved his bow work and animal tracking, he no longer found much joy in it. The world felt real, but without his actions leaving any trace, it all felt empty.
A chilly wind brushed his cheek.
"Huh, strange..." Elias said aloud.
He had never felt the wind being that cold. He brushed it off. Even after all this time, he did always find new small things happening. Things he was fairly sure had not happened the first time he experienced this day, before he had died.
Wandering through the camp, Elias avoided where he knew Master Pelgeway was. After over a year in the time loop, he knew Master Pelgeway couldn't teach him anything more. He could hit the centre of the target about often than the elderly bow master could. And that was simple compared to hitting a live target he had taught himself to hit while hunting.
Some of the Moorhaven hunter's skills astounded Elias. He wondered if there was a way to get them to teach him instead.
Elias avoided the west of the camp, not wanting to find his family either. They would want him to help set up the family tent if they saw him. The rest of his family, his mother, grandparents and three sisters had travelled on the giant flatbeds with the rest of the Moorhaven people while Elias and his father had been part of the baggage train. Elias had gained a newfound respect for his sisters having to set up the camp every day. Angia, Vel and Hina. He regretted not spending any time with them before he had died. He didn't regret riding with his father on the baggage train. Raising the tents lining the path he walked through was harder work than it looked.
Elias walked with purpose through the camp. The cold wind coming down from the distant Dunnel cliffs caused goosebumps to raise on his arms. It was different. Elias doubted he would ever fully forget the memory of walking through the snow. He could almost feel it in his fingers.
He walked down the main roadway leading to the camp centre where a giant fire would rage tonight. The people of Moorhaven hoisted colourful tents into the air as Elias walked past. The cheerful sounds of a lute started up.
"Lift the poles to the sky,
Where our dreams and journeys lie.
Fix the ropes with knots so true,
As we chase the dawn, ever new."
Elias had never bothered to investigate who was playing the lute, but he recognised the voice of Berry Candery. He had never spoken to the white-haired old lady before he had got locked in this never ending time loop. Ever since he had spoken to everyone in Moorhaven, he had even sung with her around the fire in one of the loops.
Vasda Lillery, a short middle-aged lady, stopped to wave at Elias as he walked by with a warm smile.
"Say hi to your mom for me Elias, ask if she would like to come round for some tea for me?"
"Will Do!" Elias said, choosing to ignore what the lady really thought of his mother. He had learned so many secrets living the same day over and over.
The Moorhaven tribe had 50 families in it, which was large for a nomadic tribe, or so Elias had been told. The elders of the tribe were very proud of that fact. But it was still small enough that Elias had got to know most people, at least on a surface level, since he had died and the time loop began. Elias couldn't truly say he was dead, he just couldn't think of a different explanation.
Elias took a seat on a rock along the edge of the clearing at the centre of the campsite. He had sat on this exact rock every day for a few weeks. A cold breeze blew through the clearing, Elias shivered.
The wind is too cold...
The day had been warm when he had woken up; it was always warm. Elias's eyes shot open and his heart beat in his throat.
A well-rounded man stood on a large rock surrounded by several people. This was new, not something he had just missed. Elias knew this man had never been here before. He was not even part of Moorhaven; he had never seen the man before.
The man's curly, long black hair floated in the wind. He wore a strange light blue travel coat of a style Elias had never seen before. He started shaking, a tambourine in one hand and a rattle in the other.
"The pieces are finally in place. The story can begin!" The well-rounded man flourished his arms, letting out a hearty laugh. "I apologise for the delay. I feel like it has taken a year."
Had the stranger just winked at him?
"I am called many things. You may call me Teller, and today I bring you a story long forgotten that the world must remember." Teller said addressing the growing crowd who stopped to watch him.
Elias found himself staring, unable to look away as if an unseen force commanded his attention as the strange man started his tale.
"Attend the tale of King Jerald's reign,
In Dellium's splendour, under mighty Eronel's domain.
When mankind, united, drove darkness away,
Yet in victory's shadow, their hearts led astray!"
"Whispers of power, a flame to enthral,
In ancient Dellium, would be man's great fall.
Eronel's might, in struggle, was drained,
And in that fierce battle, the city was chained."
"This forgotten tale must again be known!"
"For..."
"Diojyen's dark dance dominates, drives, dictates, dread...
In anchored hearts, corruption's seed is swiftly spread."
Teller's sombre words with carried to Elias on the wind itself as if spoken directly into his ear.
Wind rushed down the cliffs in the distance and howled over the Dunnel foothills. The icy wind swept threw the clearing over Elias.
The man suddenly rose his voice, unaffected by the growing storm.
"From antiquities annuals, perhaps a familiar verse I'll snatch,
to kindle our tale from an age-old match...."
"Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Dellium, where we lay our scene,
One royal, one not, yet both esteemed, in the city once serene."
"One King Jerald, most noble, most naive,
The other, the Keeper of Crows, a crown he would soon relieve.
Heart anchored in Rivanhall, a Crows true home,
the flame, the power, he wished for his own."
Thunder rumbled in the distance adding weight to the story tellers words. Elias stared transfixed, bound by more than words as the story teller stared directly into his soul.
"No one remembers whence the tale of the fire came,
But that the origin was in the darkness is most plain,
To harness the power, a gods light would pay the price,
King Jerald was against, the Crow thought twice."
"Betrayal most foul befell the king that night,
A flame created, the gods betrayed, a Crows delight."
Teller paused mid tale and let the silence build. His words captivated Elias's attention beyond the natural. They called to him to listen.
"In the shadow of betrayal, man's fate was etched in stone,
The day the gods were scorned, and left humanity alone.
Forgotten now, the stories of a doom self-made,
As ancient darkness once again stirs, where divine light's flame has frayed."
"But humanity's fate may once again be swain,
A young mans death march in the snow may yet have a part to play."
A shiver ran down Elias's spine. Teller looked directly into his eyes and the world fell away under his spell.
"A beginning at the end, if the young man is saved,
destiny's final tapestry may yet come unfrayed.
With a pure heart, into the darkness, he must go,
a forgotten city awaits under mountain and snow."
"A new era, a new god may yet begin anew,
Diojyen's dark dance undone, a prophecy rung true...."
Silence filled the absence of Teller's words. Elias could finally, for the first time see clearly. There was no Moorhaven camp, the cliffs in the distance were an illusion. Elias couldn't tell when the spell had been broken, only that he was face to face with Teller. The mans face was solemn.
"Above all else, I am sorry for everything that is to come."
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Elias open his eyes, haze of bright light hurt his eyes forcing him to look away. Every part of his body ached from the cold.
Where am I?, Elias thought.
Memory of the storm surrounding the storyteller and the cold flooded his mind unbidden and his heart sank. Was it his imagination?
I am not on the cart...
Despite the pain Elias laughed. He was out.
Elias's eyes slowly focused. He was in a cave, the walls dancing with the light from the flickering fire. The fire crackled, echoed in the cave. The wind and snow beat against the ground outside.
Elias's joy ended in a snap as memories of the snow, he thought he had died in returned. The days fleeing the hulking Drask brutes, being forced out into the snow storm trying to find shelter. Collapsing. It was real, all of it.
A silhouette moved, catching Elias's eye. It was a large figure hunched overlooking out of the cave exit next to the fire. Flash's of the hulking Drask brutes standing over him, froze Elias in place.
The silhouette turned to face him. Seeing he was awake, it rushed over, kneeling next to him.
"Elias? Thank Eronel, star of the north. You are awake."
"Zane?"