Hermit sighed and shouldered his bag. “If you’d really like to know, I suppose I should start at the beginning.” They exited the alley and walked through the quiet streets, passing only the occasional passerby. Sunlight trickled over the horizon, warming the city from its sleep. Hermit stopped and tapped his staff on the street. Vaela’s pulse quickened as Shadow spread along the ground. Answers, finally.

Hermit swept an arm across the sky. “The Great Creator made our dimension–”

Vaela threw her hands up in the air. “You don’t have to go that far.”

Hermit shot her a reproachful look and Surah nudged her to be quiet. Hermit cleared his throat and raised his arm again. “As I was saying. He made our dimension… out of supreme boredom. He wanted something to watch.”

Vaela rolled a hand several times, waving him along. “Yeah, yeah, he created the Peaks and they were glorious. Skip forward a couple thousand years, would you?”

Hermit huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine. After he’d sprayed his Holy Fluid on the ground–”

“Wait, what?”

Hermit raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you want the full version?”

She groaned and cradled her face in her hands. “Okay, tell it your way.”

Hermit swept his staff in a grand arc. “The Creator got bored with the Peaks and did what was only natural. He turned his exploration to his own body.” Hermit extended an arm and a Shadow Creator started filling in from the ground up.

A pair of women walked by, eyes furtively glancing at them. Vaela slapped Hermit’s arm down. “You are NOT showing the Creator, uh, doing that out here.” She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him into a side alley. She’d just as soon not listen to one of his tall tales, but something told her it was important. Hermit had rushed them out of the Healer’s tent, had protested coming to the Church, had told her things would be dangerous. Was this all part of that?

Once they were off the main street, she released Hermit. Surah elbowed her with a grin. “Be glad. He’s telling the tame version of the Creation story.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually heard this?”

“Oh, yes.” Surah clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “It’s a bit mild for my taste. In the full version, the Creator’s exploration is told in quite some detail. I’ll have to fill you in some time.”

Vaela groaned and nodded to Hermit. “Okay, so he jerked it.”

Hermit tutted. “So irreverent. After he finished his Divine Exploration, GLORY UNTO HIM!, his Holy Fluid fell to the ground and the Created sprung into being.” Hermit tapped his staff and several Shadow Figures sprang up. “This tickled the Creator so much that he wanted more. But He was, ahem, tapped out, shall we say? And he would be for ten to fifteen millenia. You know how it is.”

Beside Vaela, Surah nodded sympathetically. Vaela sighed. Men…

Hermit paced back and forth. “He ate lots of food to recover, but when that didn’t work fast enough, he just divided His Creations in half.”

She threw her hands up. “Oh, sure. Why didn’t he just do that in the first place?”

Hermit tapped his nose. “It didn’t quite go so well. See, in His Infinite Ignorance, MAY HIS WISDOM GUIDE US!, he divided everything. The dimension Split apart. On one side, the Peaks and the Created. On the other, the Pits and the Twisted. Equal in every way.”

Vaela nodded. At least this version of the Creation story was finally lining up with the standard one. She waved them back to the street. People milled through city, the mice off to work. The spire of the Church jabbed the sky a few blocks away and she headed towards it. “Yeah, so the Created and the Twisted went to war. The Twisted wanted to leave the Pits, take over the Peaks. Good versus evil, blah blah blah.”

Hermit waved his hands in the air. “No blah blah blah at all! At least, not yet. They couldn’t fight, you see.”

“I thought the ‘myth’ is they’re locked in eternal war, even to this day. Thunder is them ‘clashing weapons’ or kicking the other in the balls.” Hermit tsked and Surah shook his head at her. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what happened?”

Hermit conjured the Shadow Creator once again. “When He Split the dimension, there was no way to cross from one side to the other. A solution was needed, but the Creator had other problems.” The Creator doubled over, clutching his stomach. “All that food he’d eaten was going right through him.” The Creator waddled over to the side and dropped his pants.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Several people stared open-mouthed at them and Vaela spun away. “Really, Hermit?” She was all for kneecapping snakes, but there was such a thing as too much.

Hermit burst out laughing and rapped his staff. The Shadows receded into the ground. “After he relieved Himself in the Split, His newest Holy Creation, BLESSED BE HIS WORK!, created the Bridge Worlds.” Hermit bowed his head reverently.

Vaela jabbed her stick at him. “You’re telling me the Holy Created and Twisted waged war on a pile of shit?”

Surah clapped her on the back. “You’re missing the bigger point.” He stomped the ground. “We’re all waging war, this little thing called ‘life’, on a pile of shit.”

Hermit spread his hands wide. “Indeed.” He shook a finger at Vaela. “Now, mind you, no one was happy about the scenario, but when the Creator tells you to jump, you plug your nose and pile on.”

Vaela groaned. “This is the most irreverent thing I’ve ever heard.”

Surah shrugged. “In the version I’ve heard, the Bridge Worlds aren’t shit. He chugged a big glass of water and took a huge pi–”

Vaela punched him in the shoulder and he cut off with a grin. Hermit strode in front of them. “Now, we’re coming to the most important part. The Created and Twisted were perfectly matched. Strength met Strength.” He nodded to Surah. “Fire met Fire. And yes”–he put a hand on Vaela’s shoulder–“Blood met Blood.”

She tilted her head. Everyone knew the Created and Twisted fought each other, though she’d never heard any details of their epic struggle. It was always told in a general sense, like how the tide lapped at the shore, how the summer and winter vyed every season. No actual description, just eternal and equal. The way Hermit said it, their battle sounded almost real.

Hermit waved them closer and his voice dropped. “Eventually, one of the Twisted succeeded in crossing into the Peaks…”

Despite herself, Vaela leaned in. “What happened?”

Hermit slammed his staff into the street. “POP!” Vaela jerked, a hand flying to her heart. She dropped it and glared at him. He grinned and shrugged. “Surprised? Imagine how they felt.” He turned away and waved over his shoulder. “Well, the Twisted weren’t so eager to cross into the Peaks after that.” He spun back around. “That is, until one of them inhabited a life form on Dome.”

Shadow Sprouted into the form of a horse. It convulsed and fell. A moment later, it climbed to its feet. Shadow Gates rose from the ground and the horse twitched as it moved towards them. The Horse stepped through the Gates, then exploded. In its place, a Man stood and drew his sword.

“By using humans as shells, they were able to successfully enter the Peaks.”

Vaela scratched her head. “Then why did you show a horse? Also, that makes absolutely no sense.”

Hermit waved his hands mysteriously. “Never mind that. Here’s the important part. The forces were uneven. One of the Twisted was gone. So the Creator made another Being.” Hermit rose up to his full height and placed a hand over his heart. “One of neither light nor darkness.”

Vaela shrugged. “Huh, so what? Fog?”

Surah shook his head. “No, no, maybe muddy water.”

Hermit glared at them. “Shadow.”

Vaela wagged her stick at him. “Shadow really seems like it’s darkness.”

Hermit slammed his staff into the street. “I said it’s Shadow!”

She held up a hand, palm-out. “Okay, okay.” Touchy area, obviously. “So you’re implying Shadow Spinners are all descended from some ‘noble’ lineage?”

“I’ll have you know–”

She started down the street again, the Church only a block or two away. “Whatever. So this new Being shook things up and they’re still fighting to this day.”

Surah fell in step with her. “I’ve never heard of another Creation. The Created just got bored and left.”

Hermit whipped his cloak around him and jumped in front of them. “The Creator did leave, but in doing so, he destabilized the dimension.” He thrust his hands into the air, his staff jabbing into the sky. Two Columns of Shadow rose from the ground with several bridges connecting them. He swung his staff at the Columns and they recoiled, as if struck, and undulated. The bridges between them broke away. “The Peaks and the Pits no longer ‘touched’ each other at the Bridge Worlds.”

Vaela stepped closer to the waving Shadow Columns. “If they didn’t connect, how could the Twisted cross to the Peaks anyway?”

“If they’d cared to, it would have been impossible.”

“What do you mean ‘if they cared’?”

He joined her in front of the Shadow. “With the Creator gone, they had no reason to fight. Most of the Twisted left the Pits to live in peace on one of the Bridge Worlds.”

Vaela stared at the Columns and their waving slowed. In front of her face, a point on each Column crept towards the other. As they almost touched, a tendril flicked out from one Column and connected to the other side. After a moment, the Columns moved away once again and the connection broke off.

What was he implying? That every once in a while the mythical Pits and the Peaks actually came close to each other? Close enough that they connected at a Bridge World? She faced Hermit and studied him. This nonsense was the stuff of legend. Entertaining to hear around a hearth or see Spun in a theater. “So what if they connect? How would anyone know?”

The Shadow melted away and he tapped her sternum with his staff. “They say you’d feel it. The moment the Pits and the Peaks began their approach. Every single creature on the Bridge World would feel it–for a single moment.”

Vaela’s heart pounded, almost like an echo in her chest set off by Hermit’s staff. But his touch had been far too gentle. Not like that time. In the Hoops arena. That feeling of something deep inside her clicking, resonating. And the silence afterwards.

She swallowed hard. “Are you saying what we felt…?”

Hermit smiled and continued towards the church. Its spire served as a guiding star, visible above the roofs, until they turned a corner and the entire building jumped into sight. He stopped at the entrance to the courtyard of the church.

Vaela joined him, her heart still racing. “If the Twisted stopped fighting, why would it matter if the Pits were approaching?”

“Most of the Twisted.” He pointed his staff at the wooden doors. No, above the doors. There was an anvil chiseled into the stone, the emblem of the Church. “Most stopped fighting.”