IT was eight already and most of the adults had retired to their various cabins, it was time for the few kids who cared for fantasy to listen to the stories of an aged man under the glow of a fluctuating lantern.
Ash sat amidst his three friends among a handful of other kids that wanted to listen to Ages' stories. He smiled gingerly with Glit who seemed to be vibrating in anxiety. The old man wasn't here yet and they could barely wait for him.
He arrived soon enough, his back arched as he passed through the wooden doorway. Guiding his movement was a lengthy brown walking stick, its gentle thud marking each step. The old man himself wore a weathered robe with an old sailor overall draped across his shoulders. Long strands of gray hair concealed most of his face, while the glow of a lit tobacco emanated from his lips.
The children stopped murmuring the moment he entered the room as they knew he hated noise. He positioned himself in front of them and sat down on the wooden stool that had been prepared for him beforehand.
"My little delinquents," he said in a croaky voice. "Are you ready for another story?"
"Yes," the children chorused.
"Before we start, I have good news and bad news,"he shifted his weight before proceeding. "The bad news is, today will be the last day I am ever going to tell you a story," he announced, his voice grim and sorrowful as the kids began to murmur in protest.
He lifted his tobacco and took a deep breath from it before blowing out rings of smoke. The children quieted down after a while so he continued. "I would have wanted more time with all of you but time is fleeting. I cherish the memories I have made with you and I hope you remember me after today," he said the last bit with a small sniffle that was barely audible but Ash heard it.
The way he spoke frightened Ash; it was as if he was bidding them goodbye forever. "Maybe he's just leaving the ship," Glit whispered to him.
Ash didn't reply but kept listening to the old man. "The good news is that I'll be talking about the Cryptids," he said with a smile, and most of the children clapped, improving the atmosphere.
Ages took another puff from his tobacco before gently placing it on the floor and crushing it. This was his ritual before starting a story. He cleared his throat, and everyone in the room remained silent and still in anticipation.
"Long before the dark tides, before Cryptids and Pirates, before the Drowning of worlds," he began, his voice as ancient as the rumbling of storms. "There was an era when humanity flourished without the shadow of fear cast by the night. It was an age of boundless advancement and technological marvels, when the sun blazed unobscured by the veils of clouds. A time when land stretched threefold larger than Carven's Kingdom," he said, gazing into the distant horizon, as if he could recall those times himself, as if the tale he spun was real..
Ash felt his voice creep up on him like a menacing insect, sending shivers down his spine. "The world wasn't peaceful then either; it was a world of violence and depravity. The earth groaned under the weight of humanity's sins, for back then, humanity possessed everything," Ages coughed twice after uttering this, then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his overalls.
"Humanity had it all," he continued, and the children were captivated, their eyes locked on him as if under a spell. "But their greed knew no bounds, matched only by their boundless creativity. They yearned for more than they could grasp, leading to the proverbial situation of Icarus, the man who flew too close to the sun," he glanced at the kids and chuckled. His gaze met Ash's, and he gave him a subtle wink.
"They sought to reach God, or at least to become gods themselves. But that was a folly the earth couldn't abide; it fractured beneath them, shattering into fragments. And it wasn't just the earth that broke, but reality itself was torn asunder. Billions perished," the children gasped, one even recoiling slightly in fear.
"This story is a bit scary, Mr. Ages," the little girl remarked.
"I'm sorry, little one, but it's a tale that must be told," he apologized. "Many here may find it useful, and I hope they remember it. Information can sometimes mean the difference between life and death," he added, his gaze fixed on Ash.
The little boy felt momentarily uneasy, but soon the old man averted his gaze and resumed his story. "Whether by the will of the gods or some cosmic oversight, humanity re-emerged in the world we inhabit today. However, the circumstances surrounding this event remain unrecorded in even the most obscure and shadowy annals of history."
As he uttered the last words, the children squirmed uncomfortably. "What do you mean by history?" Ash inquired.
"Oh, my boy, today's story isn't fiction, nor is it a tale spun from creative minds. This story, my dear, is as real as the air you breathe; it is the history of your own world and how it came to be," the old man explained solemnly.
Ash glanced at Glit, who then exchanged a look with Kay. "Holy Smokes!" Kay exclaimed in surprise. "Please continue," he urged, undeterred, and all the kids assumed the same disposition.
"Well, our world came into existence by means beyond our comprehension. I, for one, believe it's a miracle," he said with a cackle as he continued. "With our world came a rise in the waters of the earth, and the vast ocean world you know now was kick-started, bringing with it the Sigils," he paused, letting the weight of his words settle into the children's souls. "Seven Pearls of power found within the depths of the dark seas. Can anyone here name these seven pearls?" he asked.