Two hundred years had passed since the end of the world. Not its destruction - its transformation. Where fire once scorched the skies and darkness threatened to swallow all, now there were farms, libraries, and quiet breakfasts. And me? I was no one special. Not anymore. The year is 24X.
The morning crept in slow, like a story forgetting how it began. Light filtered through the trees in strands of gold, catching in the mist that danced between crooked rooftops. Wind chimes made of bones and feathers clinked softly as I stepped onto the porch of my little mossy cottage, tea in hand, robe dragging along the wooden floor.
Kids darted past, all squeals and wild energy, their horns and tails barely staying in line.
KID #1: Hi Mr. Blook!
KID #2: We found a book on forbidden shadow-baking!
BLK: sipping tea Put it back. The last one summoned a demon soufflé.
Laughter. Running feet. Peace.
The kind of peace that seeps into your bones until you forget you were ever part of something bigger. Something terrible. Something divine. The village was part of the monstertribe, tucked between whispering cliffs and glowing marshes. I liked it here. I kept records, ran story nights, and maintained the Hall of Forgotten Names. No one asked too many questions. And I never offered answers. Still... today felt off. Like the world was holding a secret just behind its smile.
I pushed it aside. Helped a ghostgirl find her birthday. Taught a cyclops how to juggle with one eye closed. Fixed a sentient scroll who kept trying to bite people.
Normal stuff.
The sun dipped. The sky turned deep violet, and the wind took on that hush it gets right before a storm or a miracle. I finished shelving a book older than the moon and headed home, my limbs humming with the soft ache of age - or memory. I slid under my quilt.
BLK: Just one night. One good sleep.
My eyes closed. And then... they opened. But not in my bed. The world was gone. I was lying on golden flowers, soft as whispers, each petal humming faint notes of a song I'd never heard but somehow knew. The field stretched across a floating island high above the clouds, and the sky was not blue but alive - ribbons of starlight danced overhead, forming symbols that flickered between languages lost and unborn. The air smelled like memory and lightning. I sat up slowly, my robe shifting into a tunic of white and silver thread. Before me stood two figures. One was wrapped in a radiant calm, light pulsing gently from his every motion. His eyes, golden and kind, held the weight of endless tomorrows. The other burned with wild grace, cloaked in living flame that laughed and snarled in the same breath. His smile was sharp, his aura louder than thunder.
GBR: You're awake.
LCF: Took you long enough.
BLK: groggy Did I die?
LCF: grinning Not yet.
GBR: But you are... between.
I blinked slowly. Around us, the clouds shifted to form visions - battles, births, entire cities blooming in seconds, before vanishing like dreams.
BLK: Right, it's been so long since I've seen you guys.
I stood now, feeling lighter. Realer. The field hummed louder as I moved.
BLK: But why now?
LCF: Because we have a request.
GBR: After we defeated Vazroth, we didn't kill him. We bound him.
LCF: Stripped of power, trapped in the only prison strong enough...
GBR: The one you once wielded.
LCF: A narrator.
BLK: You forced him to tell stories?
GBR: Eternal. Endless. A punishment fitting of his hunger for control.
LCF: Now he's a voice. Just a voice destined to one day narrate a story he chooses.
They looked at each other for a moment - divinity wrapped in old friendship.
GBR: We rose. Guardians of Earth. But we can't act directly anymore.
LCF: Too much light, too much fire - we'd shatter the balance.
GBR: So we need hands. Eyes. Hearts.
LCF: Fourteen of them.
GBR: Seven for me.
LCF: Seven for me.
GBR: Disciples. Not just warriors - people who embody what we can no longer touch.
They stepped forward, the field responding to their presence. Flowers turned toward them. The sky dimmed in reverence.
LCF: And we want you to find them.
I stared at them. Then slowly sat back down in the flowers.
BLK: You dragged me into the sky... through time and memory... again... for a fetch quest?
LCF: A sacred mission.
BLK: A divine errand.
GBR: A second chance to shape the future.
I sighed.
BLK: Fine, I'll do it, but no need to make it sound so important.
The wind picked up, a soft laugh hidden in its current.
BLK: But next time? Let me sleep first.
I leaned back, letting the flowers cradle me.