An old man nearing the end of his life sits on a stone bench at the topmost tower of the most famous of islands of the coast of his home continent. The cold biting wind finds itself lacking the ability to affect the man. The spirit of the wind takes note of the man and looks closer. It seems to the spirit that the man is as sturdy as the rock itself. The spirit wonders to itself, is this a challenge... shall I put the old man in his place? As the spirits mischievous idea begins to form, it notices a radiant warmth coming from deep within the man's soul. The spirit makes it was closer to the old man and looks more carefully. The radiant warmth coming from deep within the old man is familiar. It is very familiar, This is the same power that lies in the heart of the island. The great power that prevents the wind, the sea, and the elements from eroding the island. Just as the spirit realizes that within the old man this same power resides, the man opens his eyes and he looks directly at the wind spirit.
The spirit normally doesn't bother to consider the looks of any human as they are completely unable to perceive the spirit in any meaningful way. However the spirit feels like its entire being is laid bare, and it becomes worried and hesitant to approach the old man. The old man puts a warm smile on his face trying to put the spirit at ease. Who is this old perceptive man? While considering who the old man was, the spirit noticed that the old mans spirit was just about to leave its body. That must be it thought the wind spirit. He is so close to death, that he is able to perceive me. From experience no-one this close to death lasted for any more than a short moment before passing. The spirit began to wait, thinking to as the old mans spirit who he was directly at the moment of his passing.
The old man chuckled and said with a clear powerful voice, you have no need to wait for my passing, ask of me what you will. I'm waiting here to say goodbye to my precious little sister. My attachment to this plane is considerable and my last act shall be to say goodbye in person. She ascended in my youth and though it may be arrogant to impose on the divine, I ask this one thing before I pass. Curiosity piqued, but not willing to reveal its true voice, the wind considers how she might here the tale if this old man. Surely his deeds have left a mark on this work that the spirit could search for. Especially since his power seems to be tied to this island, there should be tales to be found.
The old man smiles, seeming to be glad for the interest in his history and what tales are to be told. "Very well" he says, "I shall share our tales to pass the time as I wait". "Where shall I start he muses before a pause." He seems to be trying to retrieve a memory that he can't quite recall before seeming to speak with himself, or with something only he can perceive. "It's a spirit, it's not as if the secrets of how I came to this world are something it can share." After a short pause the one sided conversation continues "Yes, yes, no specifics... you've blocked all the important stuff anyways." After he seems to gather himself, he looks to me and begins.
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Have you ever considered that there are other worlds out there? I have, but that's because there is a good chance I came from one. The details are vague, almost like when you wake up and forget what you're dreaming about, but the memory is on there just out of reach. On the tip of your tongue so to speak. I find that an odd phrasing. Picking up on my thoughts he smiles and continues. Yeah! not a saying you would find here, or any of the continents I've visited in this world so there must be another, or another world. I can only remember sitting at a desk with a strange device showing various images to me. I can only think of two letters, but no context. I don't understand the relevance of the letters, or even if they mean anything. the are PC. It is the last think I remember before looking at this world as if through some sort of looking glass.
Scenes of this world flashed before my eyes starting with a small homestead and the image of a warm and caring family before the looking glass flashing the next scene after hearing a clicking noise. Many scenes were shown to me. I saw great noble halls, slums, castle cities, forests, caves, waterfalls, and vision after vision. I don't remember them all, I only remember that the warmth of the first image stayed with me and after a time the world formed before me. I have no idea how, and I have no details, but I'm as sure that it happened as that you and I are here right now. The next thing I know I wake up in the farm house from my vision with a bow I've never seen the like of in this world. I have two parents, and a younger sister. I know nothing of this world before the moments I have described to you.
"So, does that wet your whistle?" the old man says. Another saying I've not hear in my travels. I would like to hear this tall tale. I wonder if he will continue his tale. As I ponder this question, I see that the old man's stare has returned to something directly in-front of himself that isn't there. I explore the area around the temple he sits in waiting for him to continue his tale. As the minutes tick on, then the hours, I see no change in the presence of the stoic figure of the old man. The night comes, followed be the morning, but still no change. I place myself directly in front of him, and think that I would like to hear his story, but he doesn't react. I try to have the wind whisper the words in order to share my thoughts, and still no response. I then prepare to break a great taboo and speak to him directly using my true voice. My voice doesn't seem to want to work. I may not have used it in many years, but my voice has never failed in the past. With great effort I make the attempt again. This time my voice comes out though it sounds strained. I say that I wish to hear. This brings his haze back to me and he begins to tell his story as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
With great excitement he describes his first experiences in our world. He casually mentions that this island is his is the isle of dragons and that it is his little sisters island. I think back to the history of this island. The tales of this island are that of the great and powerful queen of the Dragons. I wonder where this tale will go. An thus the tale of the queen of dragons begins with an older brother from another world.