Some say the Earth is a ball floating in the void of space, spinning and dancing around the Sun. Others claim it is flat, the center of all existence, with the Sun as a blazing sentinel circling endlessly over its vast expanse. But who among us has truly seen the truth? Frankly, I don't care. Yet, there's something undeniably romantic about the idea of the Sun—a graceful dancer—circling around her partner, the Earth, whether it be flat or spherical. After all, who wouldn't enjoy having a dance performed just for them?
This morning, at the very first light of dawn, our radiant Sun rose to resume her timeless performance. Jealous and possessive, she banished the stars that dared to linger, though a few stubborn ones clung to their place, defiant for now. Her warm rays spilled through the crumbling ceiling of ancient ruins, tenderly caressing the garden below—a tapestry of vivid colors and hidden thorns, a masterpiece born from both love and pain. Enclosed by towering, weathered stone walls, the place exuded a serene, almost sacred beauty. A fragment of paradise, untouched by time.
At the far end of the shadowed room, a man stood, shrouded in the remnants of the night. His presence was as striking as the view itself, his features quietly commanding, a perfect fit for the scene that surrounded him.
Long silver-white hair cascaded down to his neck, contrasting with his light, dark skin. Crystal blue eyes pierced the shadows as he donned a white robe adorned with golden patterns. Beside him, two goats slept calmly on a bed of flowers, oblivious to the world and the dance of the sun.
He stood there quietly, a stick in his right hand—one might mistake him for a shepherd in a field of blossoms. His gaze rested on the wooden gate before him. Though he hadn't been here before, something had called him to this place. Guests were expected today.
"Creaaak." The old wooden gate groaned, its aged hinges announcing the arrival of a small boy. He entered cautiously, searching for something to happen. But no magical door or dragon greeted him—just the same simple field and broken ceiling as always.
As he ventured further, he sensed a presence in the room. Even with his naturally sharp eyes, he couldn't see the man hidden in the shadows. Perhaps his imagination was overflowing with strange ideas, causing him to overlook what was right before him.
Surprisingly, the beautiful white goat rose and looked directly at the boy, its piercing eyes searching his inner soul. The man stood silently, his wise and handsome features contemplating the world. Meanwhile, the black goat continued to sleep, ignoring everything around it.
"Excuse me, uhhh, sir," Glida asked with curiosity and caution, keeping his distance from the mysterious sondless figure. "Do you by chance know how I can get to the exit for the outer land?"
The man glanced briefly at the goats and murmured, "So we have here a free thread." Returning his gaze to the boy, he announced in a commanding voice, "You are in the right place."
Still confused after his fruitless experiences over the past days, Glida replied more respectfully this time, "But you see, mister, I keep coming here day after day and return home with nothing. Every day."
A moment of silence passed between them, the two goats serving as silent, peculiar spectators. Then the man spoke calmly again: "That is because the threads were still entangled, and your heart was not yet free."
"That's exactly what the weird owl said yesterday!" the boy blurted out unintentionally.
Ignoring the boy's outburst, the man continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the overseer of the gates, and they call me Azmeg. These two beautiful creatures are my companions and advisors."
Embarrassed, the boy began to introduce himself. "Ah, sorry, I'm Glida, and—" But the gentle man interrupted, "I know who you are." Silence fell once more.
"You are here to lift the veil, to risk tarnishing your soul with foolish mortal desires. You seek to enter the world of corruption, following nothing but a mere sense of curiosity," Azmeg spoke, his words laden with mystery and riddles. Before the boy could utter a question, he added, "But I am in no position to block your way. After all, everyone has the right to follow their heart and accept the consequences of their actions."
The romantic sun began to rise, casting its light upon the two solitary figures amidst the vast ruins, as if eavesdropping on their strange conversation. With a deep and concerned voice, Azmeg warned the boy, "But heed my words: you are about to pass through the gate and embark on a path of thorns. Do you still wish to see what lies behind the veil?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Glida replied firmly, "Yes, please!"
Azmeg stepped forward and waved his stick in a circular motion, causing the very air around them to swirl. Flowers floated joyfully around the boy in a magical dance. He opened his hands to catch them, savoring the rare experience. As Azmeg moved the wooden stick in intricate patterns, he told him, "Be warned again: you will be led to where you need to go and where your heart wants you to be—not necessarily where you want to get to."
Before Glida could respond or ask what he meant, the air began to howl angrily around him. The floating flowers closed in, obscuring his view. In one last glimpse, he saw the goat staring at him with its mysterious eyes, piercing through the very fabric of existence. One moment he stood on soft, dewy flowers; the next, he lost all sense of gravity. His eyes burned with a sudden, intense light that consumed even the flowers around him.
And then—nothing.
He found himself suspended in mid-air, his eyes searing with pain, his body turned upside down. Confusion overwhelmed him until he realized the truth: he was in open air, free-falling, his body gaining momentum as he plummeted toward the ground.
A visceral fear seized him, cold and all-consuming. The wind roared past his ears, a deafening howl that drowned out all thought. His heart hammered wildly against his chest, each beat a desperate plea for salvation. He reached out instinctively, grasping at empty space, his fingers closing around nothing but air. His mind raced, a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. This couldn't be happening. The ground below rushed up with alarming speed, every detail coming into sharp, unforgiving focus—the jagged rocks, the unforgiving earth awaiting his impact.
A raw, primal scream tore from his throat—"AaaAAaaAAAaaah!"—lost in the cacophony of the wind. Time seemed to warp, each second stretching into an eternity of dread. His stomach lurched with a sickening twist, leaving him breathless. Waves of regret and longing flooded his mind—a desperate yearning for the safety he had taken for granted, for the simplicity of moments just moments ago.
In that harrowing descent, Glida felt utterly alone, engulfed by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Every fiber of his being was consumed by the instinctual fear of impending doom, a terror so profound it eclipsed all else. The world above had vanished, and only the relentless pull of gravity and the inevitable collision below remained.
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In a far away land, away from the miserable and helpess falling kid, away from the closed village and the weird dense forest. There is a land of rivers, where people lived and dies on water. Here is the famous kingdom of Rivers and Spring. A land connecting the two giant continents on this world. A realm of rivers where people live and die by the water's edge. This is the kingdom connecting the two vast continents, and the most peaceful among the seven, thanks to its philosophy of harmony and its newly appointed young Prime Ambassador.
The Riverfolk move with a grace that mirrors the flowing waters around them. Dressed in clothes dyed shades of blue and green, they wear the colors of their environment with pride. Fishermen cast their nets with practiced ease, while traders navigate the waterways, their boats loaded with spices, silks, and artifacts from distant lands. Children laugh as they play along the shores, their reflections dancing on the water's surface alongside the playful shadows of darting fish.
At the heart of their way of life is the concept of Flow—the belief that life, like water, should be adaptable and harmonious. Just as rivers carve paths through stone, they believe persistence and flexibility can overcome any obstacle. This mindset makes the River Kingdom the most tranquil among the six others. Conflicts are rare here, often resolved through negotiation and understanding rather than force. Words are their tools to bridge divides, much like the elegant bridges that connect the many islands and shores within their kingdom.
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The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains of Massi's room, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. He woke to the gentle sound of water lapping against the stone foundations of his home—a comforting rhythm he had known all his life. Rising from his bed, he moved with the ease of someone used to navigating both the currents of the river and the complexities of conversation.
Stepping onto the balcony overlooking the central canal of Whispering Waters, the capital city, Massi took a deep breath. The air was fresh with the scent of dew on lotus blossoms, mixed with a hint of rain from upriver. Below, the city was coming alive. Boats filled with fresh produce glided silently along the waterways. Early risers greeted each other softly, their voices blending with the murmur of the flowing river.
Massi allowed himself a moment of quiet, observing the world he was so connected to. The people moved fluidly, their lives intertwined with the ebb and flow of the waters that sustained them. Diplomacy and adaptability were the lifeblood of this realm—ever-changing yet constant, just like the rivers themselves.
His thoughts turned to the day ahead. Recently appointed as the youngest Prime Ambassador in the kingdom's history, today was his first day stepping into a role that would shape the future of the River Kingdom. His youth brought fresh perspectives, and many within the Council of Currents hoped his leadership would invigorate their long-held diplomatic philosophy. This philosophy, embraced since the kingdom's earliest days, was the cornerstone of their peace and prosperity.
Returning inside, Massi dressed in his ambassadorial robes made of light silks in shades of emerald and silver, colors that echoed the play of sunlight on water. Each accessory was chosen carefully: a jade pendant symbolizing harmony and silver cuffs etched with flowing patterns representing continuity and change.
As he walked through the corridors of the Hall of Tides, staff members bowed respectfully. Massi acknowledged them with a warm smile and a slight nod, embodying the Riverfolk's blend of humility and quiet confidence. He was mindful of each gesture, knowing that even small actions could ripple outward, affecting perceptions and relationships.
Stepping into the grand chamber where the council would convene, he was met by his aide, Lady Dihy Watersong, a skilled diplomat and musician. Her eyes reflected the calm confidence characteristic of their people.
"Good morning, Prime Ambassador," Dihy greeted him softly. "The council members are gathering. They're eager to hear your vision for the kingdom."
"Thank you, Dihy," Massi replied. "Let's our guests feel our waters."
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Your threads will set the flow for us all."
Left alone for a moment, Massi glanced out at the river visible through the chamber's arched windows. The water's surface caught the morning light, shimmering with possibilities. Water—ever adaptable, ever persistent. Just like his approach to the challenges ahead.
With a final deep breath, he moved toward his place at the council table. Each step was measured, each thought deliberate. The morning had just begun, but Massi was already engaging in the delicate balance between tradition and innovation—a dance as intricate as the rivers that defined his homeland.
As he took his seat among the seasoned council members, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. Yet, there was also a current of excitement coursing through him. This was his opportunity to contribute to the Flow, to guide the River Kingdom toward a future where harmony prevailed not just within their own lands but as a beacon to the other kingdoms.
"Let the waters flow," he said, his voice steady yet filled with quiet determination. The faces around the table turned toward him, a mix of curiosity and respect. Massi knew that navigating the inner politics of the council would require all the skills he had honed over the years—empathy, insight, and the subtle influence that came so naturally to him.
Today marked the start of a new journey, one where his actions could shape not only the destiny of his own people but perhaps even ripple out to the wider world. And like the rivers he so loved, Massi Nissa was ready to flow toward whatever horizon lay ahead.
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A new journey for two parallel souls, one with a diplomatic smile, and the other with fear breaking his heart in midair.