"ENDLESS NIGHT :: DEAD MAGIC"


The God of Time was struggling against the very forces of the universe, but he was only a single entity. Sweat trickled from his brow, and his lungs heaved against his sides. He stood in the center of the Thistle Meadow at the head of a large, mirror-like tear in reality that was threatening to consume them all. A blue shield of energy pressed against the large, glassy surface which stood vertically in the middle of the meadow like a sideways lake.

From the fluctuations of force and wind that pulsed through the Meadow, the signs of oncoming tragedy were there, looming. The pulsing shield against the rift seemed to pull with it clouds and storms, spiraling to the center like a moth to a flame. Too early in the day, the light faded, and even the moon seemed wan and weak, rippling strangely in the sky as if it too would soon fade.

With lines of worry etched into their godly, pristine faces, the four siblings united for the first time in an age. The God of the Earth, with deeply furrowed brows strode next to his smaller, charcoal brother and pulled water and rock from the earth, forming a rotating shield of his own creation against the rift.

The goddess of the moon snaked around to the other side, pulling essence from the blackness of the sky like a dreamless void while weaving the dark through carefully threaded streams of wind. She layered the darkness and wind against the glassy surface. In a thick cloud of blooming flame that was torn quickly and reformed with the force of the wind, the God of the Sun approached his sister's side. Light from his very body poured into the rift, and fire rimmed his sister's shield, stabilizing it as best as he could.

But it was not enough.

The forced of nature conspired against the young gods, and Time knew that they had only one choice. The God of the Earth seemed to share this same thought, and he turned to the God of Time, dipping his head in a gesture of great sadness. He traveled instantly to where his son was in the Foothills, and the God leaned down, touching Hototo on the forehead and breathing against his forelock.

"You are a protector of the mortals now. When the world grows dark, only you will have the power to nourish the land and keep it alive. I will return when I am able. Be strong. Be brave. And know that I am proud of you."

In an instant, he was gone, and his large, draft figure was torn into the rift. One by one, the gods released their holds. The God of the Sun found Israfel in the World's Edge, sadness-etched lines into his proud face.

"You are the light this world will not have, Isra. Stay steadfast and bold. Be the star of the land, the hope of an age, and one day, I will see you again."

Once he was returned, the God surrounded himself in a thick cloud of churning fire, leaping directly into the void. The God of the Moon snaked away next, going to the Windtossed Foothills to visit her son.

"Mesec," she whispered. "Soon, the world will be dark, and you will be the only one who will understand its ways and desires. You are a strong boy, and you must lead them with your knowledge. Goodbye."

The goddess reappeared in the meadow and cloaked herself in darkness before sliding inside the glass, silent and sly like a shadow. Finally, the God of Time traveled to the Foothills to meet with his daughter who was too young still to understand what was happening. Soon, that would be changed.

"Roskuld." His voice was deep. "You are the time keeper. Days will not cycle. The Sun will not rise, but you will know the seasons and feel the pattern of then spin of the Earth. Watch after them."

Once he returned, the blue shield left and the rippling tear grew exponentially larger until the God of Time stepped through the hole. In an instant, the rift was gone, leaving the meadow in an eerie and ominous silence. The world did indeed grow dark, and day came without the rise of the sun.

Upon waking, the four demi-god children would all find themselves at a year old, their bodies altered by the God of Time. They had been forced to grow up, to age to protect the mortals in the gods' absence. Only the four half-gods had the power and the connection with Helovia to keep it functioning in this strange age of eternal night.

Lining the roads and well-worn pathways that lead to each lined were large, lamp-like trees. Their bark glowed bright shades of green, blue and purple, and their leaves gave enough light by which to travel. In the herdlands, the shrines provided enough light by which to live. The pool in the Foothills glowed brightly like the fires in a lighthouse, a beacon to all who called this land home. The mists of the World's Edge sparkled with light and lifted to settle in the bare boughs of the winter trees. In a way, the mists because stars, fallen from the skies, blanketing the land. The fire in the Dragon's throat began a pillar in the sky, erupting straight into the heavens. Its light illuminated the oasis, giving life to the vegetation. In the Basin, the mirror in the cave reflected against crystals in the walls, creating a massive entanglement of light that pulsed from the cave. The light illuminated the lake which seemed to glow from beneath, providing some comfort in the frozen land.

The gods left a single message in the veins, written in a language that was read not in the mind, but the heart. It glowed across the remainder of all four stones of their shrines.


"STAY STRONG. THERE MUST BE DAWN AFTER EVERY NIGHT."

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