There were no concrete records of the dark realm. Information on the realm of mystery was scarce with no evidence of it being true. Unlike the other realms, the dark realm seldom let go of its intruders. Entities like Cronos who had escaped the realm were few and in between. In fact, it was highly likely that Cronos was actually the only survivor. For even the Allfather Odin, a being ever so thirsty for knowledge that the sacrifice of an eye was seen as trivial, had no curiosity concerning the Dark realm- just trepidation.
So why was it called the dark realm? Why did the gods fear it so? Why did the prideful Cronos keep mute about what he experienced there, leaving only descriptions of what the realm looked like in a thin, withered book.
It was of great fortune that the dark realm was located at the edge of the Universe, a location only available to the strong. Hence, only a few were privy to information concerning this deathtrap. Its legends, lay out of reach to all the lower realms. For even among the higher realms, only the most exceptional knew of it. But information on this realm mattered little, for no one was eager to confirm it. Well, almost no one.
A wise man once said, "To every rule there's an exception." And an exception there was. Though if the maker of this wise phrase was to see the foolhardy of this 'exceptional' group, he would feel as though his words were foolish, with no wisdom to be gleaned from it.
You see, curiosity often only had two outcomes-fortune or despair. What was the secret outcome no.3? More despair it was. The difference between the wise and the foolish was the ability to discern when to be curious; when to seek for something; when to ask; when to be silent; and when to act. Fools had no such skills of discernment. They spoke and acted on whims, and very often, paid dearly for them. But sometimes, the difference between folly and wisdom was separated by a thing barrier- luck. When one has luck on their side, every foolish act yields great results. Uncalculated risks become acts of genius. For you see, the lucky man, was always a success story. A man graced with luck, is always wise.
"Is it really as they say? Has there never been any survivor?" The question came several miles away from the borders of the dark realm. A sound so pleasant, a voice so sweet. One that seemed to spark some life in this remote location.
The one who posed this question was a little girl. She had gorgeous black hair, and deep black pupils that seem to suck one in if they stared into them for too long. Her dark complexion seemed to elevate her beauty by a couple of notches.
The recipient of her curiosity was a middle aged man with whom she shared some similarities. He was just as dark, and had black pupils as well. His hair was black, with some hints of gray indicating that he wasn't as young as he looked. He was so absolved in his thoughts, he didn't even hear the little girl.
"Grandfather?" the little girl pulled on the man's shirt, finally garnering a reaction from him. The older man looked down at his granddaughter, his doting eyes fixed on her small frame that seemed to indicate that she was no older than ten. She had a pouting look, clearly displeased by the former's previous lack of attention. The man addressed as Grandfather smiled at her displeasure. An act that lead to her throwing a kick at him, aiming at his calf. He easily sidestepped the sneak attack, his smile getting broader at the risible sight.
"Hehe. There has been but one known survivor. And even that information is not common found. I had to sneak into a fortress on a mountain to find that out. It was a miracle in itself that I was able to escape with my life."
"Wow. But Grandfather is so strong. Who could possibly cause you to flee?" The little girl was very doubtful of the information she had been given. And rightly so. Even in the Vast Universe, threats to Ascended Realm experts were almost non-existent.
"Well, even your Grandfather would have no choice but to flee if he was besieged by a group of Ascended Realm freaks."
"Oh okay. So who was the one that escaped the dark realm Grandfather?" the cute little black girl continued her questioning, her curiosity concerning her Grandfather's near death experience extinguished.
"They called him Cronos little one. He was the Titan God of time." The man patiently explained.
"Was? Where is he now?" she asked once more.
"Nobody knows sweetheart. Why so curious little doll?"
In response to her grandfather's questioning, the little girl looked back at the realm miles away, admiration in her eyes as she said, "it's hard to believe it is so dangerous. Look at how beautiful it is."
Indeed it was beautiful. It was a mystery as to why it was called the 'Dark' realm. For the realm boundary was colorful, extremely beautiful to say the least. It seemed to encompass all the colors of the world, beautifully blended to bring awe to the eyes of anyone who beheld its glory.
The master artist that painted this image, its creator, must have surely used a heavenly brush to unify such colors, giving them no room to protest. Unfortunately, this sight had long lost its beauty to all who knew its legend. What a learned man saw when he beheld this supposed masterpiece wasn't reverence- it was fear. A fear so deep that the deepest oceans of all the realms paled in comparison. Ironic wasn't it, that a place so colorful, held such dark secrets.
"It looks pretty on the outside, but the inside, not so much. You see, the laws of destruction that exist in that realm are so powerful that no one can survive in that realm. No matter who it is, they would be obliterated by the sheer force of destruction there."
"Ah I see! No wonder it's said to be the most terrifying place in the Universe."
The little girl's exclamation was far reaching in this desolate atmosphere. She fully accepted the older man's words. Only, his answer had also birthed more questions.
"Then why are we here Grandfather?"
"You see little doll, that is our realm of origin. It is risky, but even the most ferocious of beasts, don't always gobble up their young. Let us go little doll."
Upon finishing his statement, the circular platform that held their weight began to move, flying at a moderate pace. Their destination, the dark realm- their place of origin.
A god of eloquence and poetry had once said, "At certain times, it is what seems to be the folly of men that yield fruits of wisdom." Was he right? Well, only time- no luck- will tell whether Bragi was actually right.