Bookwyrm's NaNoWriMo

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Thanks to the efforts of @InfiniteInsanity, I am attempting NaNoWriMo this year. 

I'm going to post the chapters as I write them, or at least as makes sense according to my schedule.

I'm writing a fantasy novel (with a little bit of sci fi) that's based on an idea InfiniteInsanity helped me come up with. I've added a lot to it, and thrown together a rough outline, so that I may actually be able to finish a story this time, rather than what I usually do, which is just creating some cool worldbuilding without a real story to go with it.

Normally, I'd give a long explanatory rant, but this time, I'm throwing you in so you can see what you think. You'll learn as you read.

To start: The Prologue.

I realized as I was writing this that I made it way too long. I put a whole lot of unnecessary stuff in here, so I'm going to edit it and trim it down later. (There will most likely be a rigorous editing process for the entire story, honestly. But that's once I'm finished.) So please keep in mind that I am currently unsatisfied with this prologue, and most of it is subject to change in the future.

Even so, here it is.

Spoiler

Yril stood in the Gateway Chamber, awaiting a messenger.

The room was ornately designed. It was circular, with four curved pillars that came from the floor and arced towards the ceiling. The ceiling was painted with an elaborate star chart, centered around a specific star that was circled and located at the very top of the domed ceiling. Four doors, alternating with the pillars, lead outside the circular building. All of them were open. The floor of the room was designed in several tiers that lowered into a cavity in the center. This cavity held a strange apparatus that powered the main purpose of the room:

The Gateway.

It was a fairly sizable sphere, almost three times as tall as Yril, which was saying something, considering he was fairly large for an Ystrill. It warped the light around it in strange forms: The image of the room on the other side of the spherical portal was strangely distorted, as if the image of what was behind the sphere had instead been shoved to its perimeter. The sphere itself held a similarly distorted image of the Gateway Chamber on the other side, though the shimmering white light that enveloped the Gateway somewhat obscured that view.

Yril stood among a few other Ystrill and several humans in the room. Many of them were armed and armored, waiting for the point where they would need to be called upon. A conflict was occurring in a distant world, and their help might be needed soon.

Yril sincerely hoped that it wasn’t. If they needed someone of his strength, then there was little cause for hope.

One of the humans walked up to him. From Yril’s perspective, she seemed small. Considering that Ystrill were Wyrnalian creatures, related to the Dragons, they were fairly massive. Yril had a pair of large wings, a strong, sturdy tail, and an angled head with two ornate horns, similar to antlers. He was covered in grayish blue fur, which was what distinguished the Ystrill from the Dragons, and had four eyes on his face. Two of them were normal eyes, for the regular usage, but the other two had…unique properties. They were closed right now, but Yril might have need of them in the near future.

The human who came to him wore a tunic with simple light armor and a green cloak. She had pale skin and brown hair, and green eyes that showed worry. Yril recognized her: This was Shilri, who was bonded with Tyra. 

“Yril,” Shilri said. “Do you know how things are going?”

Yril couldn’t comprehend human speech alone, but most of those who commonly interacted with his species had learned to send a mental message along with their words. That mental information was transmitted to Yril, and the squeaks and chitters that were human language suddenly gained meaning.

Yril responded likewise, imbuing his words with a mental meaning. “I’m not sure. I have not received a message from anyone on the front. I’m assuming our enemy is blocking mental communications. That’s why we’re waiting here.”

Shilri sighed. “I assumed as much.” She turned and looked where Tyra, her bonded Ystrill, was in conversation with a younger, less experienced Ystrill. “Still, it would be nice to have a little reassurance.”

Yril nodded grimly. “All we can do is wait and prepare.”

The group waited for several more hours. An awful tension hung in the air. He could almost feel the emotions clashing; anticipation, fear, and hope swirling and quivering. 

Yril turned and looked out one of the grand doorways into the Gateway Chamber. He saw a part of the army that was gathered to fight; the rest surrounded the chamber on the other sides. A majestic array of armored Humans and Ystrill, and even a few dragons, their colorful scales glinting in intricate patterns that marked them as a specific variety. Dragons were a varied race, and while none called this world home, many had arrived to help fight the threat that was advancing upon it.

Among the humans, three races were represented. Those with pale skin, rounded ears, and smooth faces were the inhabitants of Myar, the world on which they currently stood. They lived with the Ystrill and were leading this attack, though they were also the least numerous. 

The two other races were similar, as they both came from a nearby world; the tropical moon known as Ocera. The other Watchtower. They were still human, but were characterized by stone-like ridges underneath their eyes, along their cheekbones, and ears that fanned out at the end and were colored with cool colors near the tips. Their armor, as opposed to the white metal of the Myarians, was made of a sturdy wood and was carved with intricate designs.

Ocera had no Wyrnalian beings of its own, but since the moon had much contact with Myar, many Ocerians had bonded with Ystrill. Through the union of both worlds, this force had come into existence, to quell the evil that ravaged against both of them.

Now their final gambit was in play. And if they failed, neither world would survive.

Yril turned back to the Gateway. While he hoped that this extra army’s help wouldn’t be needed, he also knew that the Zyrians needed to be defeated no matter the cost. If their help was needed, they would fight with all the vigor in their souls.

The Gateway rippled, and the image of the chamber beyond shifted slightly. Suddenly, an Ystrill with a human riding on her back appeared from the rippling gateway. The human, a young man wearing a Myarian uniform, urgently dismounted and ran up to Yril.

“General,” he said. “Your army is needed at the front. Your daughter is waiting to brief you.” He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and handed it to the human emissary of the army, Wilkar. Wilkar was Yril’s second in command, but like Yril himself, had no bond. That didn’t hinder his ability to lead an army, nor his prowess in battle. While the bond granted many benefits to both beings involved, it was possible to reach great levels of power without one.

Wilkar turned to Yril. “You go on ahead,” he said. “Follow the messenger and meet up with your daughter. We’ll be right behind you.” He saluted and jogged off to prepare the army before Yril could protest. Yril decided to trust Wilkar’s judgment; the lieutenant had proven to be right in the past too many times for him not to.

Yril turned to the young man. “Lead the way.” The messenger nodded, re-mounted his Ystrill, and stepped through the Gateway.

Yril turned back and looked back for a brief second. Shilri and her bond, along with his other officers, were gathering the army and preparing them to march. While he could feel their fear and anticipation, he could also feel their resolute confidence. They were ready.

Yril stepped forward and walked through the Gateway.

 

Traveling through a Gateway was a strange experience. Different parts of Yril’s mind seemed to experience different things. One part of him simply felt the action as taking a step, and ending up somewhere new. The distorted image of the other Gateway Chamber curved around him and solidified into a detailed image, with the image of the room he had been in previously curving back around to become the surface of the other side of the portal. Just a few steps, and he was on another world.

But another part of him saw it differently. As soon as he touched the portal, another part of his mind seemed to stretch. That part registered a vast, incomprehensible distance between where he was and where he was going. Yes, the Gateway was letting him traverse that distance instantaneously, but that didn’t change the distance itself. This part of him felt that distance, and so when he arrived on the other world, part of Yril felt as if he had traveled for an eternity. That sensation soon faded, but it was disorienting all the same.

Yril was now in another Gateway Chamber, a twin to the one he had come from. The architecture was much the same; four curved pillars arching towards a domed ceiling painted with constellations. This time, the constellations were mostly unfamiliar. The star in the center of the ceiling was the one that hosted the world he had come from.

Of course, the world he was on now didn’t have a star. Not by conventional means, anyway.

The messenger’s Ystrill led Yril out of the Gateway Chamber. A small fortress surrounded it: nowhere near the grandiose splendor of the great Myrian cities, but impressive nonetheless. Trees of a specific grew throughout it’s yard and along the perimeter. Several soldiers and Ystrill guarded the gates and walked along the fort’s outer wall, watching for any sign of danger. The fort seemed quiet and empty right now, but considering that an army was about to come through, it would soon become a bustling center of activity, at least before they marched.

The air was cold: far colder than Myar had been. A small layer of snow covered the ground. As the messenger took to the skies, Yril followed. The fortress shrank behind him, revealing a flat, almost barren landscape. Half-melted snow blanketed the land, with yellowish grass poking out of a few patches. In the distance, Yril could see small mountains. The messenger led him towards those mountains.

The pale daylight that covered the plains came from what looked like a sun at first glance. A closer look revealed what seemed to be a dark gap in the center of the bright sphere, revealing its true nature. Though, to be honest, no one really understood the actual nature of that object. It was enough that it provided the necessary warmth and light for the worlds around it to function.

They flew for several hours, past the smaller mountains, and towards a larger range that appeared on the horizon. The barren plains gave way to more varied vegetation and geography, such as forests, and valleys, though the land was still covered in snow and ice. The weather got colder as they traveled. Snowdrifts got higher and higher, especially as they neared the larger mountain range. Yril felt the freezing air blowing through his strange fur, though the cold didn’t bother him. Not as much as it did a human, at least.

As they traveled, the signs of conflict became apparent. Areas of melted snow and burned forests, fields trampled by armies, places littered with refuse from the battles. Weapons, armor, and corpses. Yril could make out the bodies of several black dragons among the humans and Ystrill. Zyrians. The enemy.

They continued flying.

 

After another few hours of travel, Yril could soon make out the warfront. Armies of humans and Ystrill alike were assembled at one end of a frozen valley. Fires burned in the distance, and he could faintly make out the sounds of combat.

The messenger dove, and Yril followed, coming to land near the center of one of the warcamps. As Yril touched the ground, he had to suppress a sigh of relief. His wings were tired after such a long flight. Rather than taking a moment to rest, though, he nodded his thanks to the messengers, both human and Ystrill, who saluted and took off again, probably to get new orders. He then turned and walked through the camp to the command tent.

The tent was large and of Ystrill make, designed for the large creatures rather than just humans. When he ducked through the main flap, he saw his daughter, Tilyr, and her bond, Tralq, at a desk overlooking a rough map of the valley, with tokens to symbolize troop positions. Tilyr’s fur was colored with a muted red, and the horns on her head spiraled in an intricate pattern that was distinct from Yril’s own, jagged ones. Tilyr’s mother had worn similar horns. The daughter took after her late mother.

Yril shoved down a pang of latent grief.

As he walked in, Tilyr’s head snapped up. She leaped towards Yril and embraced him in her wings.

“I’m so glad you’re here, father,” she said. Desperation was clear in her voice. Yet below that, there was a stalwart determination. Tilyr had always been fearless and bold. It was disturbing to see her so out of sorts, enough that his arrival was able to give her so much hope.

Things really weren’t going well.

Tilyr pulled from the embrace. Yril turned to Tralq, who smiled and saluted from where he stood on the large desk. A native Ocerian, he had dark brown skin, and the distinct ears and facial ridges that characterized their race.

“It’s good to see you, General,” he said.

Yril smiled and nodded to Tralq in turn. Then he turned back to Tilyr.

“How are things going?” he asked. 

Tilyr turned somber. She walked back around the desk and looked over the map, craning her long neck over it. 

“Not very well,” she said. “Take a look.”

Yril looked over the map, taking in their position, the positions of their armies, and the position of the enemy. To someone without much knowledge of nature the battle, it looked as if things were going well. Their enemy was isolated to a small valley, and their own forces seemed to outnumber that of their foe. Yril’s army would soon join the allied force, further enhancing the illusion that the situation was under control.

Yet in reality, they were far from victory. Nestled in the center of the enemy’s territory was another Gateway, one that led to a planet brimming with Zyrian dragons and humans. Their armies simply waited for a chance to pour out. A single slip up would have the allied armies crushed under an unrelenting force, and if that occurred, no one would be able to stop them from conquering not just this world, but Myar and Ocera as well.

“We’ve pushed them back far enough for us to take a breather,” Tilyr said. “And, with the usage of the Sealing, we’ve halted their progress. But they’re working too fast on their end. Even with your army, the situation is too dire.”

Indeed, as Yril studied the map, he realized that there was little cause for hope. Their own forces were stretched thin in several areas, so that all it would take would be a strong, sharp attack to an unprepared force to let them loose. The Sealings would lose their power, and the world would fall. And there was nothing halting that attack.

Yril closed his eyes.

He knew what came next.

As if echoing his thoughts, Tilyr spoke again. 

“There is one more way.”

Yril opened his eyes and gazed into Tilyr’s own. She looked so much like her mother, with that same resolution and glimmering hope. He didn’t want to lose his daughter in the same way he had lost his mate.

“We have to, father. It’s the only way.”

Yril fought against the grief that suddenly surged against him.

“Do you know what this would mean?” he asked.

“I do,” Tilyr responded. “And I’ve accepted it. I talked it over with Cyr. We feel safe with our unborn daughter in your hands. We, and all of the Ystrill, have faith in you. We know that you’ll do what needs to be done.” Her eyes began to water. “My only regret is that I’ll miss out on our future of peace,” she said, voice choking, “And that you’ll have to be alone for so long.”

It was all Yril could do to avoid crying himself. He wrapped his daughter in another embrace, his wings around hers.

“I will be okay,” he said soothingly, though his inner emotions warred. “And you can trust me.”

“I know.”

Yril turned to look at Tralq. The human seemed so small to him. So weak. But he was as determined as any of the Ystrill or dragons were.

Humans were a strange race. So fragile physically, but with souls as strong as any of Wyrnalian blood. Perhaps stronger, in some ways.

“It is a tragedy,” Tralq said, “But our people are ready. We know the Myarian people have been dwindling on their own world due to the conflict for ages, and we are ready to take their people in with open arms.”

Yril nodded his thanks.

The Contingency, as it had come to be called, was their final hope. Across the stars, similar conflicts were being fought. The Siblings, Ocera and Myar - or, as they had come to be known in recent years, the Watchtowers - had their part to play. The Zyrians needed to be imprisoned.

Even if it meant sacrificing an entire people to do so.

 

The fighting lasted for days afterwards. Yril’s army fought valiantly, pushing back the tides of black armored humans and dragons. Sealing magic was used commonly to block the advance of the Zyrian army. Eventually, they had pushed the enemy all the way up to the Gateway Chamber.

Yril fought as hard as he could. He should have been drained, but something kept him going. He was locked in combat with a powerful warrior. A black dragon with red eyes and a vicious disposition. His magic was powerful, and it was all Yril could do to combat it with countering spells of his own. It was almost subconscious, but if he slipped up, things would not go well.

The dragon took a swipe with sharpened claws at Yril’s torso. Even before the blow hit, however, the fine fur covering his body hardened and solidified, becoming an isolated piece of armor that deflected the blow. It still hurt, but a bruise was far better than a slash.

Yril eventually overpowered his foe, surrounding his talon with energy and slicing at the dragon’s neck. His foe collapsed, dead, dark blood coming from the fatal neck wound.

Yril looked around. 

They had done it.

Every Zyrian troop was on the other side of the Gateway.

Now came the sacrifice.

Yril sent out a mental signal, powerful enough to be heard across worlds. He called to every Ystrill to enact upon an ancient agreement, an agreement that, whether by luck or providence, Yril had been exempt from.

They channeled their power and sealed the Gateways.

Yril stepped out of the Gateway Chamber and overlooked the battered army. It did not feel like they had won. Every single Ystrill began to glow with a soft light, which grew brighter and brighter until it enveloped them. Any human bonded to an Ystrill did likewise. The light flashed suddenly, then faded, leaving no one behind.

And so, a species died.

 

The sacrifice closed the portal to the prison world, effectively trapping the Zyrian forces there. The other portals would close soon after, after their purpose had been fulfilled.

The Ystrill had been vital to the Myarian society. And so, per the Contingency, the remaining Myarians would go to live on Ocera. Myar would become an abandoned world, inhabited only by Yril and a clutch of twenty-five eggs from different Ystrill families. 

After a few weeks of moving and goodbyes, Myar was left abandoned. The portal from Ocera to the world where the conflict had occurred was destroyed completely. All other portals were closed, and were set to lie dormant for millenia. Now, the only world with any connection to the prison was the frozen world, and the only world with any connection to that one was Myar. The malicious focus of the imprisoned Zyrians would stay focused on Myar, but as it was left mostly uninhabited, the risk to the common people was greatly lessened.

Yril was left as the last remaining Ystrill. He watched over Myar, and the twenty-five eggs that would be the future of his species. They would hatch when the time was right, though Yril had no way of knowing when that was. 

He would remain in as much contact as possible with Ocera, for the two worlds had a mandate: to watch over the prison world Tazar, and ensure that the malevolent forces there did not escape.

He was the leader of one of the Two Watchtowers. He had a responsibility.

No matter how hard it was.

 

 

[Rabbit Unmade she/her]

Wow, that’s really cool!

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Chapter 1. In the future drafts and editing, I'll see if I can get into Yril's mind a little more...

Spoiler

Yril stood on a tower overlooking a dead city.

Taramyr had once been the capital city of the entire planet Myar. The center of civilization and culture on the world. It was built with dual architectures that melded together to become a beautiful piece of art, and a symbol to those who called the world home. 

Taramyr was built into the side of a mountain, with many buildings carved directly from the stone. It overlooked a verdant valley filled with forests and rivers. More traditional buildings had expanded into an ancient metropolis that spanned to the other side of the valley, where smaller cities were built into the mountains on that other side. But Taramyr was by far the most majestic of these.

With his third eye, Yril gazed into the past. He would do this often; the memory of what Myar had once been was a comfort. After so long in isolation, living among the corpse of what was once a thriving culture, it seemed sometimes that his only return to reality came by living in the past.

He gazed out over the valley, the image of what once was overlapping with what was in the moment, giving a strange dual image. His third eye saw a valley filled with people. Humans and Ystrill alike mingling as tiny specks among the towns and farmlands. Shifting his gaze towards the Taramir showed a bustling civilization. Tiered levels were built into the mountain with large towers and castles for the draconic Ystrill and intricate homes and neighborhoods for the smaller humans, as well as locations that held mixed residences for the bonded. In the upper levels, beautiful, majestic manors and towers seemed to grow from the mountain, places for the leaders of the world to lead and guide.

Yril’s two normal eyes betrayed reality. Almost all of what had once existed in the valley was gone, washed away by millenia of natural change. Farmlands were overgrown, rivers changed course, and wild forests grew without check. The cities along the mountains had fallen into ruin, their light snuffed, their immaculate buildings weathered away by ages of torture by the natural elements. After the remaining Myarians had moved to Ocera after the war, no one was there to maintain the marvels that had once been their culture’s trademark.

The two images overlapped in his sight, giving him a sense of melancholy and time. The faint outline of the distant past, painted onto the land of the present like a morning mist not yet faded. It brought him sorrow, but it helped him remember.

There was one similarity between the two overlapping images, though, and that was the flowers.

The Motes of Creation, as they were known, came in several varieties. They came in a wide expanse of colors, on a scale from black to white, and in every color of the rainbow, and then some. Each had an intricate pattern of seven petals that spiral outwards from the center. They covered the fields of Myar completely, almost as common as grass was. If anything, there were more of the Motes in the present than there had been in the past. In a world where so much had dwindled, the flowers had flourished.

His fourth eye, the one that would show him the future, remained closed.

Yril sighed and closed his third eye. He leapt from the tower where he stood and spread his wings, spiraling over Taramyr to the building he used as his home. Known as the Nest, the large building was a cross between a palace and a fortress, and was once the center of Ystrillian culture on Myar. Its majestic towers and walls stood tall and proud, and even millennia after its proper usage, it was still distinguishable from the city around it.

Sometimes it baffled Yril that it had been so long. Millenia? In any other place, that was enough time for worlds to shift and empires to vanish. And yet here was a powerful testament to a dead culture that seemed to have aged only a few centuries. Taramyr had been built with ancient magic; magic that was now forgotten, at least in the specific details. That magic let the metropolis sustain itself beyond what should have been possible. Still, it was incredible.

Yril landed on one of the landing balconies that protruded from the Nest. Despite his age, which was phenomenal even for a Wyrnalian being, he still felt limber and athletic. He was old, certainly, and that showed, though more in his mind than his body. The gift that had been granted to him in the distant past assured his effectively eternal health.

Sometimes that gift seemed more like a curse.

Yril walked through the doorway and into the Nest. Most of the doorways and windows in the Nest had no actual door or window in them; they were simply ornate gaps in the outer wall of the building. The ancient Ystrill had designed the building to be in tune with the elements, and after two thousand years, many of the doors and windows that had existed were long gone.

Yril walked through the abandoned hallways. The Nest was designed to be as naturally lit as possible, and the few artificial lights that were needed Yril powered with his own magic. 

His life was a lonely one. He had often entered periods of sleep that lasted decades, spending the time replenishing himself physically and mentally. He had traveled the world many times, documenting the creatures that lived and how they changed over the shifting eras. Every few decades, he would receive a mental communication from someone on Ocera. This person would be a leader among those who were still watching Tazar, and update him on the history of Ocera and the state of the prison, from their view.

There wasn’t much he could do besides that. Other than using his abilities to check Tazar as often as possible, being the head of the Myarian Watchtower didn’t require much work. Only perseverance. And yet sometimes, that was too much to muster.

What I wouldn’t give for someone to talk to, Yril thought. Not someone on a distant world, but someone, right here. Someone to share this world with.

It has been far too long.

He felt something shimmer across the surface of his fourth eye.

Yril hesitated.

It had been years since he had last opened his fourth eye, and even longer since it had alerted him of something. In a life as long and as seemingly meaningless as Yril’s…it could mean anything.

Hesitant, but more than a little curious, Yril opened his fourth eye.

Immediately, the vision burst into his mind. Looking with the fourth eye wasn’t always like the third; the future had a very different structure than the past, and manifested in a different way. The fourth eye would give him flashes, scenes, and images of things that wouldn’t make sense until they happened. 

Through his fourth eye, Yril saw a dark room. It was kept very warm, with a specialized furnace at the center. Along the perimeter of the dark circular room were twenty five eggs, each in their own specific spot. These eggs contained twenty five unborn Ystrill, each of a different family and lineage.

The last hope of his race.

Yril felt a spike of panic. He turned and raced down another hallway, making his way towards the center of the Nest. Even as he ran, he kept his fourth eye open, continuing the vision.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. And yet, as he ran, he noticed two of the eggs shifting slightly.

One of them was his granddaughter’s egg.

Yril made his way to the center of the Nest. The circular inner chamber was quite large, with several levels and a giant skylight at the very top, opening over a shaft that went all the way to the bottom. In the past, the murals and architecture had seemed to reflect the light from that opening all the way down to the bottom, but after years of abandonment, it seemed only to highlight the room’s state of disrepair.

Still, the room, and the entire Nest, were in far better shape than the rest of the city was. It had Yril to thank for that.

Yril dove from the balcony on his level and down through the central area of the room, heading towards the secret kept at the bottom. When he landed, he channeled a bit of his power, and used it to open a stairway down to the most important room on the planet.

The Nursery.

The vision in Yril’s fourth eye suddenly ended. There was a specific feeling that came with the way it had abruptly stopped. Other visions seemed to fade, simply becoming invisible rather than ending completely. When this happened, Yril knew that the event was yet to occur.

But when a vision ended, truly ended, it meant that the event itself had arrived.

Yril reached the bottom of the stairwell and pushed open the intricate door at the end with his talons. He walked into the same circular Nursery that he had seen in his vision. He had spent a lot of time here, learning the names of each of the unborn Ystrill, and imagining a world in which it would be safe for them to hatch, to grow, to live.

It can’t be, Yril thought to himself. It’s too early.

But regardless, two of the eggs wriggled and shifted in their small nests. Side by side, one was a light, faded blue, the other a deep red, almost bordering on violet.

Almost simultaneously, they began to hatch.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

13 minutes ago, The Bookwyrm said:

Chapter 1. In the future drafts and editing, I'll see if I can get into Yril's mind a little more...

  Hide contents

Yril stood on a tower overlooking a dead city.

Taramyr had once been the capital city of the entire planet Myar. The center of civilization and culture on the world. It was built with dual architectures that melded together to become a beautiful piece of art, and a symbol to those who called the world home. 

Taramyr was built into the side of a mountain, with many buildings carved directly from the stone. It overlooked a verdant valley filled with forests and rivers. More traditional buildings had expanded into an ancient metropolis that spanned to the other side of the valley, where smaller cities were built into the mountains on that other side. But Taramyr was by far the most majestic of these.

With his third eye, Yril gazed into the past. He would do this often; the memory of what Myar had once been was a comfort. After so long in isolation, living among the corpse of what was once a thriving culture, it seemed sometimes that his only return to reality came by living in the past.

He gazed out over the valley, the image of what once was overlapping with what was in the moment, giving a strange dual image. His third eye saw a valley filled with people. Humans and Ystrill alike mingling as tiny specks among the towns and farmlands. Shifting his gaze towards the Taramir showed a bustling civilization. Tiered levels were built into the mountain with large towers and castles for the draconic Ystrill and intricate homes and neighborhoods for the smaller humans, as well as locations that held mixed residences for the bonded. In the upper levels, beautiful, majestic manors and towers seemed to grow from the mountain, places for the leaders of the world to lead and guide.

Yril’s two normal eyes betrayed reality. Almost all of what had once existed in the valley was gone, washed away by millenia of natural change. Farmlands were overgrown, rivers changed course, and wild forests grew without check. The cities along the mountains had fallen into ruin, their light snuffed, their immaculate buildings weathered away by ages of torture by the natural elements. After the remaining Myarians had moved to Ocera after the war, no one was there to maintain the marvels that had once been their culture’s trademark.

The two images overlapped in his sight, giving him a sense of melancholy and time. The faint outline of the distant past, painted onto the land of the present like a morning mist not yet faded. It brought him sorrow, but it helped him remember.

There was one similarity between the two overlapping images, though, and that was the flowers.

The Motes of Creation, as they were known, came in several varieties. They came in a wide expanse of colors, on a scale from black to white, and in every color of the rainbow, and then some. Each had an intricate pattern of seven petals that spiral outwards from the center. They covered the fields of Myar completely, almost as common as grass was. If anything, there were more of the Motes in the present than there had been in the past. In a world where so much had dwindled, the flowers had flourished.

His fourth eye, the one that would show him the future, remained closed.

Yril sighed and closed his third eye. He leapt from the tower where he stood and spread his wings, spiraling over Taramyr to the building he used as his home. Known as the Nest, the large building was a cross between a palace and a fortress, and was once the center of Ystrillian culture on Myar. Its majestic towers and walls stood tall and proud, and even millennia after its proper usage, it was still distinguishable from the city around it.

Sometimes it baffled Yril that it had been so long. Millenia? In any other place, that was enough time for worlds to shift and empires to vanish. And yet here was a powerful testament to a dead culture that seemed to have aged only a few centuries. Taramyr had been built with ancient magic; magic that was now forgotten, at least in the specific details. That magic let the metropolis sustain itself beyond what should have been possible. Still, it was incredible.

Yril landed on one of the landing balconies that protruded from the Nest. Despite his age, which was phenomenal even for a Wyrnalian being, he still felt limber and athletic. He was old, certainly, and that showed, though more in his mind than his body. The gift that had been granted to him in the distant past assured his effectively eternal health.

Sometimes that gift seemed more like a curse.

Yril walked through the doorway and into the Nest. Most of the doorways and windows in the Nest had no actual door or window in them; they were simply ornate gaps in the outer wall of the building. The ancient Ystrill had designed the building to be in tune with the elements, and after two thousand years, many of the doors and windows that had existed were long gone.

Yril walked through the abandoned hallways. The Nest was designed to be as naturally lit as possible, and the few artificial lights that were needed Yril powered with his own magic. 

His life was a lonely one. He had often entered periods of sleep that lasted decades, spending the time replenishing himself physically and mentally. He had traveled the world many times, documenting the creatures that lived and how they changed over the shifting eras. Every few decades, he would receive a mental communication from someone on Ocera. This person would be a leader among those who were still watching Tazar, and update him on the history of Ocera and the state of the prison, from their view.

There wasn’t much he could do besides that. Other than using his abilities to check Tazar as often as possible, being the head of the Myarian Watchtower didn’t require much work. Only perseverance. And yet sometimes, that was too much to muster.

What I wouldn’t give for someone to talk to, Yril thought. Not someone on a distant world, but someone, right here. Someone to share this world with.

It has been far too long.

He felt something shimmer across the surface of his fourth eye.

Yril hesitated.

It had been years since he had last opened his fourth eye, and even longer since it had alerted him of something. In a life as long and as seemingly meaningless as Yril’s…it could mean anything.

Hesitant, but more than a little curious, Yril opened his fourth eye.

Immediately, the vision burst into his mind. Looking with the fourth eye wasn’t always like the third; the future had a very different structure than the past, and manifested in a different way. The fourth eye would give him flashes, scenes, and images of things that wouldn’t make sense until they happened. 

Through his fourth eye, Yril saw a dark room. It was kept very warm, with a specialized furnace at the center. Along the perimeter of the dark circular room were twenty five eggs, each in their own specific spot. These eggs contained twenty five unborn Ystrill, each of a different family and lineage.

The last hope of his race.

Yril felt a spike of panic. He turned and raced down another hallway, making his way towards the center of the Nest. Even as he ran, he kept his fourth eye open, continuing the vision.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. And yet, as he ran, he noticed two of the eggs shifting slightly.

One of them was his granddaughter’s egg.

Yril made his way to the center of the Nest. The circular inner chamber was quite large, with several levels and a giant skylight at the very top, opening over a shaft that went all the way to the bottom. In the past, the murals and architecture had seemed to reflect the light from that opening all the way down to the bottom, but after years of abandonment, it seemed only to highlight the room’s state of disrepair.

Still, the room, and the entire Nest, were in far better shape than the rest of the city was. It had Yril to thank for that.

Yril dove from the balcony on his level and down through the central area of the room, heading towards the secret kept at the bottom. When he landed, he channeled a bit of his power, and used it to open a stairway down to the most important room on the planet.

The Nursery.

The vision in Yril’s fourth eye suddenly ended. There was a specific feeling that came with the way it had abruptly stopped. Other visions seemed to fade, simply becoming invisible rather than ending completely. When this happened, Yril knew that the event was yet to occur.

But when a vision ended, truly ended, it meant that the event itself had arrived.

Yril reached the bottom of the stairwell and pushed open the intricate door at the end with his talons. He walked into the same circular Nursery that he had seen in his vision. He had spent a lot of time here, learning the names of each of the unborn Ystrill, and imagining a world in which it would be safe for them to hatch, to grow, to live.

It can’t be, Yril thought to himself. It’s too early.

But regardless, two of the eggs wriggled and shifted in their small nests. Side by side, one was a light, faded blue, the other a deep red, almost bordering on violet.

Almost simultaneously, they began to hatch.

 

Very interesting. I like it!

I also like your new pfp

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Chapter 2. Pretty short. I think this one might be my best so far.

Spoiler

Lyra sensed it was time for a change.

She had spent…a long time in here. It wasn’t a bad place. It was warm, and cozy, and kept her safe. She had friends. There was the one who came sometimes, the large one, who watched over them, whispered to them, sang to them, told them their names. Her nestmates all loved this one, this one who was called Yril. He was their guardian, their protector.

Her nestmates were interesting. They were still learning of themselves, and knew little of the world around them. But some of them were fun. They had thoughts. They ventured with their minds, if not their egg-encased bodies.

She could vaguely remember…two other ones. Not their names, nor their voices, but their minds. The ones who had created her. She loved them. But they were gone.

Still, it was a good existence. Safe, warm, and happy. Lyra had never wanted anything else.

Until now. Something had changed. She felt ready, ready for something new. There were worlds out there…waiting. And she could feel that now. She wondered why she hadn’t before.

It had been…so long. Too long.

She was ready.

Lyra began to shift in her shell. What had once been a home slowly seemed to become a prison to her. She didn’t want to be here. There was something more, a lot more, that she could see, feel, and do. And she couldn’t do that in her shell.

It almost seemed like something, or someone, was waiting for her.

Even as Lyra began to scratch at the membrane in her egg, she sensed one of her nestmates doing the same. Her closest friend, though one she had never met. The one called Kytar. Through a brief mental connection with Kytar, Lyra could feel that he had the same sudden urge, the knowledge that there was something beyond, something more. Kytar was breaking out of his prison, too.

Lyra pierced the membrane on the inside of the shell and began scratching at the shell itself. A sound came from outside. The sound of a door opening. Yril was here.

Outside.

Lyra pushed harder, scratching at the shell. It began to crack. She pushed, using strength she didn’t realize she had to break through into a new world.

The tip of her claw broke free.

She tore and clawed, widening the opening. The shell fell apart around her, and Lyra collapsed into the world, exhausted. 

What struck her first was how cold it was. She shivered involuntarily. It was estranged to be spread out like such, after so long trapped in a confined position. She heard sounds fully for the first time, felt the subtle movements of the air around her.

Lyra opened her eyes for the first time. All four of them.

With her first two, she saw Kytar for the first time. She didn’t know why she recognized him, but she did. He looked as tired as she was, and the empty shell that had been his prison lay in pieces around him.

Kytar opened his eyes and gazed into her own.

With her third and forth eyes, Lyra saw things that weren’t real. They had a semblance of reality, but…they seemed so much less tangible. Important, but not physical. Things she couldn’t explain…things she didn’t understand. By an instinct, Lyra closed her third and fourth eyes. They weren’t needed then, and were only to be used when needed.

Lyra turned and saw Yril. He was big. Very big, compared to Lyra and Kytar. But there was a kindness in his eyes, not to mention an emotion Lyra wasn’t very familiar with. Surprise?

“You…came early,” Yril said. His voice was old and deep. “Why? Why are you here, little ones?” He looked around the room. “And why only you?”

Words. Lyra had heard them, of course, but…she couldn’t do words very well.

She tried to talk, but only succeeded in making an unintelligible chirp. Frustrated, she kept trying. More chirps.

For some reason, this made Yril smile. Why was that funny? She was trying her hardest! Lyra chirped again angrily.

“You,” Yril said, “Are a lot like your mother, Lyra.” His smiling face took on a strange look. Like he was…remembering something. Yril turned his giant head towards Kytar. “Do you have anything to say?”

Kytar simply gazed at Yril with a quiet wonder.

“That’s a no, then.” Yril chuckled. “You two are very different.” His face turned somber.

Lyra was unsure why the shapes that Yril was making with his face seemed to mean different things. She just…knew that they did. It was weird.

Her strength somewhat replenished, Lyra shakily attempted to stand up. She fell over the first time. Eventually, she was able to come to a wobbly stand on her four talons. She spread her wings for balance, using them and her tail to keep from falling over.

She was able to hold that position for a good five seconds before toppling over again. 

She warbled in annoyance, and did so again when she saw Kytar slowly stand up and hold the position. In a brief flash of anger, she stuck out a tiny talon and batted at one of Kytar’s legs, knocking him over.

Kytar gave her an annoyed look.

Yril laughed. The two young Ystrill gazed up at him.

“This…changes…so much,” he said. He still seemed happy, but his voice was weirdly choked. His eyes began to water. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I am so, so glad that you are.” He wrapped them in his wings.

It was warm. A different warmth than the egg had been. This warmth was more than just the feeling that ran through her body, calming the shivers and bringing her comfort.

It was a feeling of love, and being loved. 

Lyra returned the embrace with her tiny wings. Beside her, Kytar did likewise. They had never met Yril before, but he had watched them for so, so long. He was their guardian, and they trusted him fully.

After a few moments, Yril broke from the embrace, looking down at the two young Ystrill. Lyra saw a genuine smile on his face.

“I suppose it’s time I introduce you to the world,” he said.

And, for the first time, Lyra felt a smile spread across her own face. She turned to Kytar, who wore a similar expression.

They had entered the world together, and were ready to take all it had to give them.

 

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

I believe I'm allowed to double post on a thread where I'm sharing my own work...right?

Chapter 3. Please, tell me how it's going.

Spoiler

The years that followed seemed to be the happiest of Yril’s life.

The two children had a fascination with the world around them that frankly baffled him. Every little thing he had taken for granted on the abandoned planet seemed to be a wonderful treasure to them. Lyra, like her mother had been, was an energetic and crazy little thing. She would often disappear for hours on some adventure before Yril was able to track her down.

Kytar was far quieter, but he had a smoldering curiosity that was as unquenchable as Lyra’s energy. He preferred to quietly observe the world, slowly soaking in everything he could. He enjoyed going out and exploring just as much as Lyra did, but often took it in a thoughtful and careful approach that was rare for a young Ystrill of his age. The draconic creatures aged far slower than humans, but still had a distinct young childhood age, which both Lyra and Kytar were in.

The relationship between the two was strange. They cared for each other deeply, and yet they also seemed to get on each other's nerves far more than Yril thought they would. They were like siblings, sometimes, and in a way they were. They were inseparable; whenever one vanished to go on some adventure, the other was more often than not right behind. But their relationship was also different, perhaps considering they were two of the only three living sapient beings on the planet.

Having these two to teach, to nurture, to argue with and reason with, was a blessing that Yril didn’t realize he needed. His life took on a new meaning. Even though they were still young, too young to understand many of the things that Yril would have to teach them, the fact that he could teach them was incredible. A world that for so long had seemed his prison took on new wonder as he was able to see how Lyra and Kytar viewed it.

Slowly, but surely, he taught them. First, how to walk, talk, read, and live. He taught them how to be Ystrill, how to grow up. They were young children, barely hatched and inexperienced. They had a lot to learn.

He would lead them into the valley, show them the plants and animals he had documented. He showed them the stars at night, and told them of other worlds; some he had visited, and others he only knew stories of.

They took it all in with the energetic zeal only children could muster.

 

Roughly fifteen years after their hatching, Yril had declared it was time for their first expedition outside the Taramyr Valley.

They were sitting on one of the roof platforms on the nest, watching the sun set behind the mountains, when he told Lyra and Kytar that it was time for them to venture a little farther.

“Where-” Kytar began.

“Where are we going?” Lyra asked excitedly.

Kytar gave her a flat look. “I was going to ask that.”

Lyra shrugged. Kytar had good thoughts, he was just kind of slow sometimes. Lyra was able to ask questions faster, and therefore get answers faster. Logic.

Lyra voiced this thought. “You’re too slow sometimes.”

Kytar sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

Yril chuckled. “Settle down, now. I was going to tell you anyway; your squabbling is doing nothing but delaying your answer.”

Lyra and Kytar silenced themselves quickly and listened attentively. 

This made Yril chuckle again for some reason. 

He finds the weirdest things funny, Lyra thought.

“We’re traveling to an island south of here,” Yril said. “There’s something that I need to tell you, and I think that it would be a good place to tell you that.”

Lyra saw Kytar get the look on his face that meant he was thinking. His grayish blue fur rippled slightly in the wind that blew across the top of the Nest, and his tail curled up in a comfortable position. The horns on his head were still growing, considering he was still a kid, with not much pattern or intricacy on them.

Lyra still thought it was unfair that his horns were bigger than hers.

“What is it you want to tell us?” Kytar asked. 

Yril smiled. “You’re going to have to be more patient, my little bookworm. I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Kytar grumbled. “You always say that.”

“How far away is the island?” Lyra asked. She could be patient.

“About a week’s journey.”

…Maybe not that patient.

“A week?” Lyra complained. “Where is it, the other side of the planet?”

“Not quite. It is across the equator, though. We’ll spend a day and a half reaching the ocean, and then take a secret route from island to island until we reach our destination.” Yril craned his head a little closer to them. “It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”

“I certainly hope so,” Lyra said, but she was grinning now. A quick glance at Kytar told her that he felt the same, even if he was less expressive about it. For some reason, the secret that Yril would tell them there was more interesting to him than the journey would be. But that was Kytar; always interested in the wrong stuff.

“Can you at least give me a hint about what you’re going to tell us?” Kytar asked.

Yril smiled as the sun finished setting behind the opposite mountain, casting the valley into darkness, save for the tips of the highest mountains behind them.

“You just can’t wait, can you?”

Kytar shook his head. Lyra didn’t want to admit it, but she was also growing pretty curious about this secret.

“I’m going to tell you the history of this world,” Yril said, his voice growing more serious. “Why it is that no one lives here but us, and why it’s important that it is this way.”

Both of them grew silent.

When they had been younger, in their first few years, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. But as she had gotten older, Lyra had realized how strange it was that there was such a big city here, and no one to live in it. Kytar had come to the conclusion a little bit faster than her. He was too smart sometimes.

Still, answers to why the world was the way it was intrigued her just as much as it had to intrigue Kytar.

Yril smiled again and gave them each a playful, tickling jab with the tip of his tail, sending Lyra into a fit of giggles and Kytar yelping as he tried to dive away.

“You two need to get to bed!” he said. “We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, and you’ll need your strength.”

The three of them retreated into their room in the Nest. Yril bade them a tender goodnight as they curled up in their little nests, the light from Ymia, Myar’s moon, illuminating the room through the large skylight.

As Lyra drifted off to sleep, she wondered what they would learn on that distant island, and if it would change anything.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

This is really interesting and yes you can double post if it's something your creating, I think.

7 minutes ago, The Bookwyrm said:

Kytar was far quieter, but he had a smoldering curiosity that was as unquenchable as Lyra’s energy. He preferred to quietly observe the world, slowly soaking in everything he could. He enjoyed going out and exploring just as much as Lyra did, but often took it in a thoughtful and careful approach that was rare for a young Ystrill of his age.

This...this describes me so accurately.

[InfiniteInsanity she/her]

I like Lyra. It's really good! And I'm really happy with the Ystrills! But you better keep up the good work with the Ystrills. Or I will not be happy. 

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Chapter 4. Falling behind a little bit, but hopefully I'll get back on track soon.

Spoiler

The next morning, the three of them stood on the roof of the nest, having packed what supplies they needed for the journey. Each of them had a pack of food and gear that rested in the crook of their necks, between their wings. Kytar had made sure to pack extra books and scrolls in his. Lyra had scoffed at this, saying that it would only make his pack heavier, but he knew he’d get his justification when he caught Lyra reading one of the books in the middle of the night. She was often hypocritical in her whining and teasing.

As usual, Lyra was complaining that morning.

“This is heavy,” she groaned as she shifted the pack on her shoulders. “How long is the journey again?”

“I told you, about a week.” Yril paused. “Well, a week there. Then it’s a week back.”

Lyra stopped abruptly, then glared at Yril. “And you couldn’t have told us this sooner?!” She looked to Kytar for support.

Kytar shrugged as he slipped the last book into his pack. “I don’t mind.”

Lyra sighed. “You aren’t very good at rebelling, Kytar.”

“That’s okay, I don’t need to be.” Kytar slung his pack onto his back and fiddled with the straps to make sure it was secure. “Besides, you said it would be fun, didn’t you?” he asked Yril.

“I did indeed say that.” Yril patted Lyra on the head with a wing, which she tried to duck under. “It will probably be an uncomfortable journey at times, yes, but you’ll have many experiences to learn and grow.” He turned to Kytar. “You probably won’t need all of those books.”

Kytar paused. “Can I bring them anyway?”

Yril laughed. “If you insist, but don’t complain if your pack is too heavy.”

“I won’t. I’m not like Lyra.”

“Hey!”

Kytar dodged as Lyra attempted to swat him with her tail. He’d gotten pretty good at that through their shared childhood. Then again, Lyra had spent just as much time learning how to counter his dodges, so it evened out.

While the sky over the Taramyr valley was slowly growing brighter, the sun had not risen yet. A few stars were still visible in the lightening blue sky above, but those were quickly fading. Several wispy clouds drifted overhead. Ymia had set several hours ago, and was no longer visible.

After a few minutes of making sure they had everything, they set out. Yril launched into the sky and Kytar followed, leaping and propelling himself upwards and forwards with a powerful flap. He rose into the sky, flying over the ruins of Taramyr, then over the expanse of the Valley. As the sun rose, it illuminated the Motes of Creation, gifting the Valley a surreal and magical air. It was beautiful.

The sun warmed Kytar, countering the chill air of the high altitude. He smiled and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the life-giving star and the currents of air around him. Yes, Yril and Lyra sometimes saw him as preferring to sit inside and read. And yes, reading was one of his favorite pastimes. He loved learning what those books held.

But little could compare to what you experienced yourself. Kytar loved adventure just as much as Lyra did.

He opened his eyes. He flew slightly above and behind Yril, and Lyra was to his right. Occasionally, Yril would shift his position, re-angling in the air, and Kytar and Lyra quickly adjusted. They learned to fly very young, and it was now second nature to them.

After about an hour, they crossed over the mountain range opposite from Taramyr’s side of the Valley. This was about as far as Kytar and Lyra had traveled in the past. While they had extensively explored the Valley, both in their early years and in their more recent ones, they had never gone beyond the peaks of the mountain range that encompassed it. This would be their farthest journey. And Kytar couldn’t wait.

 

They flew south once they had left the valley, following a winding river through the mountains. Kytar had seen maps of Myar before, though many of them were somewhat outdated. The most accurate ones were the ones made by Yril himself, during the travels of his isolation.

According to the maps, the mountains of the Altyrian Range, as it was called, got even taller as they traveled south, reaching their highest peaks before tapering off into a peninsula that extended into the ocean. Kytar kept this image in his mind, though it was usually difficult to cross reference the memory of a map to the world around him. He trusted Yril to know the way.

They crossed over more mountains and through more valleys, occasionally spotting the ruins of carved cities like Taramyr built into the sides of the mountains. The river that seemed to be their path wove through the towering bulks above, filling valleys with life. The imagery of a valley filled with green, speckled with the colorful Motes, surrounded by gray mountains with white tips became common. It was truly beautiful, and even though Taramyr Valley was in the end similar to these ones, the differences between the valleys simply highlighted their wonder.

They traveled all day, only stopping a few times to eat or drink and rest their wings. Surprisingly, Lyra didn’t complain too much during that time. Perhaps the thrill of a new adventure excited her. Indeed, as they flew, she would call out to Kytar and dive closer to the ground, showing him some interesting thing she had found. This had included a small lake nestled between two mountains, the ruins of what looked like some kind of temple, and a field filled with Motes of a grayish color that was far rarer in Taramyr Valley. The flowers fascinated Lyra for some reason.

Eventually, as the sun began to set behind one of the mountain ranges, Yril called to them to land again.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” he said, glancing around the clearing he had chosen. It was at the foot of one of the mountains and was near a small running river. There was a forest nearby, and the clearing itself had a few Motes scattered about.

Lyra sighed and took off her pack. “Finally.”

Kytar did the same, minus the sigh and complaint. He pulled out a map he had packed, unfolded it, and spread it out on the grass in the fading sunlight. Even though the sun would soon disappear over the mountain, there would still be at least an hour before the actual onset of night.

He glanced around on the map, then paused and looked at his surroundings. He turned to Yril. “We’re about here, right?” he asked, pointing to a specific point on the map, somewhere in the middle of the Altyrian Range.

Yril walked over and pushed Kytar’s talon a fair distance north. “Try here.”

Kytar’s eyes widened. “This is going to be a long journey.”

Yril smiled. “I thought you weren’t like Lyra, complaining wise?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact.”

Yril laughed. “I suppose. I promise, we’ll get to the center of Altyria tomorrow. When you see those mountains…” he looked off into the distance wistfully. “You’ll wonder how you mistook these for them.” He gestured to the mountains around them.

“It sounds amazing,” Kytar said, folding up his map. Then he hesitated, opening it up again. 

He glanced down to the south on the map, past the Altyrian Range and to the island chains in the ocean below. “Where’s our destination?”

Yril looked over the map. He thought for a moment.

“I think you’ll be able to deduce that yourself, Kytar. Think.”

Kytar looked over the many islands. Some of them were fairly large, others simply represented as glorified splotches. One of them caught his eye. The label for the island read Ocerian Gateway. 

Kytar touched the island with the tip of his claw. “Is this it?”

“Indeed it is. I’ll let you mull over what that means,” Yril said.

What could it mean? Kytar thought to himself. “Are you telling Lyra about this?”  

“Most likely. Though she’s just as smart as you. Perhaps she’ll figure it out herself.”

“I’m the one with the map.”

“Has that stopped her in the past?”

Kytar paused. “No.”

Yril smiled. “I thought so.” He turned and began walking towards the nearby river, which fed into the larger one that marked their direction of travel.

“You have an hour to yourself,” he said. “Then I want you and Lyra to practice your meditation.”

“I understand,” Kytar called, then turned to the map again.

The Ocerian Gateway…does that mean what I think it means? And if it does…

Kytar found himself containing an impatience for whatever Yril was going to tell them on that island that surprised himself. 

What really did happen to this world?

Something is telling me that this book might be more than 50,000 words...

 

Edited November 6, 2022 by The Bookwyrm

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Chapter 5.

Spoiler

Chapter 5

 

They left early the next morning.

Yril awoke the two young Ystrill from their sleep before the sun had risen. Lyra groaned. She had stayed up too late exploring, and was now going to have to pay the price. 

As they took off into the sky, following the river, Lyra shook her head in order to gain some semblance of sentience. She still felt very groggy, and the images of the previous night's dreams still danced in her head.

This had better be worth it…

The sun began to rise a few minutes later, brightening the sky. At their higher altitude, they were able to see it emerge over the mountain sooner than the creatures living deeper in the valley. The brightness warmed Lyra and helped her wake up a little more.

“After a few hours,” Yril said to the two of them, “We’ll be at the center of the Altyrian Mountains. We’ll see the tallest mountain on Myar.”

Indeed, as they continued, the mountains to their right grew taller and taller, extending towards the sky with a majestic and dominant air. The valleys below them were still filled with greenery and life, but the grandeur of the white capped giants looming over them seemed to drown out everything else.

After an hour of flying, they came to the foot of it.

“This is Thyriam,” Yril said. “The king of all mountains.”

They circled at its base. Lyra gazed up, craning her neck to get a good view of the top. It was nearly impossible; Thyriam towered over the world around it like a god. Its bottom half was covered with life and water, and was surrounded by other, smaller mountains. In its upper portions, there was nothing but desolate slopes and frigid snow. Even though they were higher than the altitude of any of the mountains back near Taramyr, they weren’t even halfway to the top of Thyriam. 

Yril flew them close to the mountain, directing them to land near a little lake that had pooled in a flat portion of its lower area. This part of Thyriam was covered with trees and plants, and small animals scurried through the forest. Despite the lower altitude when compared to the peak of the mountain, the small grotto was high enough to tower over the peaks of many of the smaller nearby mountains, giving an incredible view.

Lyra expected the area to be cold, considering the elevation, but it was surprisingly warm. It was strange; Thyriam and many of the taller mountains of Altyria seemed to have thriving ecosystems at elevations in which other mountains were barren wastelands. Kytar probably knew more about the phenomenon.

“You two, come here,” Yril said. “Look.” He pointed with a talon southward. The sun was directly overhead, considering it was about noon.

By squinting and gazing to the horizon, Lyra could see where the land seemed to drop off into an endless blue that merged with the sky.

“The ocean?” she asked.

“Indeed,” Yril said. “It’s a sight to behold up close. A beautiful one.”

“Whoa,” Lyra said. She turned to Yril. “How long till we reach the shore?”

“About another day’s journey,” Yril said. “We’ll travel into the Altyrian Peninsula a little bit before making our way over the ocean. Then, we’ll travel from island to island until we reach our destination.”

“Where is our destination?”

For some reason, Yril shared a look with Kytar, but neither of them said anything.

Lyra huffed. So that’s how things were going to be. Again.

She’d find out herself.

 

After an hour resting at the grotto, Yril called them to leave.

“Can we go up the mountain?” Lyra asked.

“We don’t have the endurance or the equipment,” Kytar said before Yril could respond. “Besides, we have somewhere else we need to be.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“But I knew the answer.” 

Yril interceded. “Kytar is right; we are nowhere near prepared for a journey of such strenuous proportions.”

“Even with flying?” Lyra asked.

“It gets very difficult in the high elevation, even without the wind,” Yril said. “You’d need, as Kytar said, training and endurance, along with specialized equipment.” Yril gazed up at the peak of the mountain for a minute before looking back at them. “Besides, we have somewhere else we need to be for now.”

Lyra thought for a moment. “But…it’s something I could do, someday?”

“I suppose,” Yril responded. “If that’s something you want - or need - to do.”

That would satisfy her for now.

They took off, flying away from Thyriam. Even though they didn’t change their altitude, Lyra felt a surprisingly large drop in pressure and temperature when they left the mountain’s area. There was something weird about that. Lyra didn’t know why she didn’t notice sooner.

They continued flying south, slowly angling away from the center of the mountain range. They flew until the sun began to set and Yril directed them to land in a field of the Motes of Creation located in a small valley between two smaller mountains.

Lyra collapsed into the soft bed of flowers, resting her tired wings. From her vantage point sprawled out on the ground, she had a good look at the mysterious flowers.

They had always fascinated her for some reason. The spiral of their petals was mesmerizing, and the fact that they came in so many colors. Whenever they did their meditation exercises, as directed by Yril, the flowers had always seemed to call to her in a way she was unable to explain.

Some of them seemed to glow in the darkness.

She stood up and slung off her pack before flopping down into the grass and flowers again. Yril and Kytar landed next to her. Kytar took off his pack and pulled out a book. He also took out a pen and began writing something in it. 

Lyra shifted from where she was laying to glance over at Kytar. “I didn’t know you kept a journal,” she said.

“I don’t write in it as much as I probably should,” Kytar said without looking up. “But I thought it would be a good idea to chronicle the events of the journey.”

“Mm.” Lyra rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, relaxing.

She heard the rustle of plants as Yril stood up.

“I’m going to go find us some food,” he said. “Can you two get a fire started?”

“Yep,” Kytar said. Lyra grunted in affirmation.

She groaned and rolled over again before standing up and looking around. Yril had taken off and flown over the nearby forest. 

“Are you going to help me find the wood?” she asked Kytar.

“Yeah, hang on. Let me finish…” he responded, scribbling in his book.

Lyra shrugged and walked into the woods to find some larger sticks.

She had found enough to make a nice good fire before Kytar came up to join her. As usual. He always spent far too long in books.

While Lyra found books interesting, they were never a substitute for what one could find in the real world. Myar - no, the whole universe - was so detailed and expansive and wonderful that she wondered why anyone would rather read about it than go and experience it. When she read, it was so she could learn about something she wasn’t able to experience yet, or to learn how to better experience something. And occasionally because stories were cool. But that was it.

“How can I help?” Kytar asked.

“I’m done already.”

“Oh.” Kytar at least had the decency to look abashed. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure,” Lyra said, taking the opportunity to tease Kytar. She knew his apology was sincere, she just enjoyed teasing him too much. The young Ystrill took things far too seriously. “Come on, let’s head back to the clearing.”

They arrived and dug a hole in a less vegetated portion of the clearing. They surrounded the hole with large rocks, making a makeshift firepit. Then they set up the wood in the right way, and Kytar found a flint and stone from his pack that he used to start the fire.

Yril had told them stories about Wyrnalian creatures, related to the Ystrill, who could exhale flames. Even if those stories were true, the Ystrill had no such abilities, and had to rely on other methods to start fires.

After a few minutes, they had a nice strong fire going. After a short wait, Yril returned with his kills: Two Baelfen, which were large furry hooved creatures that roamed in herds, and a single Vilef, which was a predatory reptile that made its home on the slopes of mountains. 

Lyra and Kytar helped to skin and gut the creatures before taking some of the cooking equipment out of Yril’s pack to prepare the meat. Ystrill could eat meat raw, if needed, but it was healthier and tastier when cooked, so they usually did so if they could.

By that point, the sky was dark, and they could see the stars splayed out above them. As the fire died down, the three of them simply sat in quiet thought for a moment.

“You two should probably do your meditations, now,” Yril said.

Normally Lyra would have protested, but with the Motes of Creation nearby, she was willing to do the exercises.. She shifted into a comfortable position and closed her eyes. Then, she focused her mind.

The Ystrill had access to latent magical powers, but they manifested themselves in a much less defined and much less powerful way than what some of the books detailed as “magic”. It was more of an ability to sense the latent consciousnesses and energies of the worlds around them, and then the ability to subtly shift those in minor ways. 

As Lyra reached out with her mind, the clearing, and the nearby forests, and then the rest of the small valley became a glittering mindscape. Forms of life and magic seemed to glow to her inner eye. Kytar and Yril especially glowed with a powerful radiance, considering the strength of their minds and souls, and their proximity to her.

As usual, the Motes of Creation shone with an energy that seemed unlike anything else in the valley. They were brighter than any of the other plants, save for perhaps the most ancient of trees. They almost seemed to have minds of their own. Focusing on the flowers, Lyra could sense subtle differences in the signature of each one. She could tell that each of those differences corresponded to a specific color.

When she tried to reach out and touch them with her mind, she was unable to do anything more than sense them a little more clearly. Nothing drastic, nothing powerful. It was as if there was some kind of barrier between her own soul and that of the flowers. 

She had made many of these observations before with the Motes back in Taramyr Valley. There seemed to be no major differences between the spiritual behaviors of these Motes than the ones back there. Which was disappointing.

Her interest in the flowers waned, and she spread her focus out on the valley. Rather than letting herself focus on any one creature or natural aspect of the world around her, she let her mind drift, taking it all in. It was a beautiful experience.

Something glinted in the sight of her fourth eye.

Lyra hesitated. Her fourth eye was closed, both figuratively and literally. But it seemed to be telling her something.

Tentatively, even though she kept the eye itself closed, she opened its sight, letting it show her what it needed to.

A phantom connection appeared in her mind. A connection that didn’t exist, but would someday. The nonexistent mind was distant; a distance that Lyra couldn’t even comprehend. But the soul of whatever future being she sensed a connection seemed close, and was familiar. 

It called to her.

Lyra’s eyes snapped open, and the sight of her fourth eye slowly faded away.

What was that?

She looked around. Yril and Kytar still had their eyes closed while Yril didn’t seem to notice anything, Kytar almost looked like he was confused. That he had sensed something that intrigued him and didn’t make sense.

His eyes suddenly snapped open as well.

Lyra forged a temporary mental connection with Kytar and sent him a message.

Did you….sense something as well? She asked. 

Kytar looked surprised. How did you know?

I felt something, Lyra responded. A mental connection…through my fourth eye.

Kytar sat in thought for a moment. I felt the same thing. What does it mean?

I don’t know.

“If you two are having a conversation, do you mind letting me sit in on it?”

The two of them snapped their heads around to look at Yril.

“I’m not angry,” he said. “Just curious.”

“Um…” Kytar said. He was never very good at lying.

“It’s nothing,” Lyra said. “Just….we were just comparing what we noticed about the valley.”

Though…considering Yril had known her for her entire life, maybe she wasn’t that good at lying either.

He shrugged. “If you say so.” The way he said it made it clear that he suspected something more, even if he wasn’t going to push.

Why didn’t you tell him?

Lyra turned to Kytar.

It’s not like we have any reason to keep a secret, he continued.

I…don’t know. Maybe an instinct.

Kytar raised a skeptical eyebrow. An instinct.

Hush, you.

He smiled. Maybe…maybe not. He broke the mental connection.

Lyra huffed, resisting the urge to whack him with her tail. Sometimes they seemed to be the closest of friends, closer than siblings. And other times he drove her insane. 

Then again, maybe it was because he drove her insane that they were so close in the first place.

Kytar pulled a scroll from his pack and began to read by the dying firelight. Yril continued his meditation, seeming like an ancient sentinel who watched with his mind rather than his eyes. He had achieved levels of skill that were unimaginable for Lyra and Kytar at their current ability. Lyra could only imagine what he saw, what he could do if he put his mind, both figuratively and literally, to it.

Lyra flopped onto her back again, wings spread out to either side. She gazed up at the stars, which were scattered across the darkening blue expanse like nothing else. The patterns of the brighter ones set against an infinite backdrop of millions of dimmer ones, marred by a dusty trail that arced across the sky, was a breathtaking sight that she would never grow tired of. She knew that Kytar felt the same way. The stars…there was something mystical about them. Something so tantalizingly familiar, but simultaneously so alien as to be incomprehensible. 

For some reason, she felt herself drawn to one of the brightest stars in the night sky. It was known as Celle. Lyra was familiar with it, as a world that traveled around Celle was the setting of many of the stories Yril had told them. A cloudy giant known as Asalar, with an ocean moon called Ocera.

For some reason, the area near Celle seemed to call to her. It spoke with the familiarity of the phantom connection she had felt during her meditation.

This only served to baffle her more. Why would she have a mental connection, not only to something that didn’t yet exist, but to something on another world? Ocera, no less? It was…weird. Put simply.

These thoughts accompanied Lyra until she drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were littered with the sensation of minds and souls and the possibilities of other worlds.

I wax a little poetic in the ending paragraphs of this one.

Edited November 9, 2022 by The Bookwyrm

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

I got shivers at the fourth eye connection part. I love reading your story so far!