Nightfall's Fairytale

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Whispers of faint darkness arose in Cre's heart as he recalled the devastating eve in which the world was changed in a single instant. Not a flood of catastrophe mind you but rather an isolated moment of terror. Arousing himself from the dark dream he is forced to relive many times a day, Calar motioned ahead of him.

Fenari was a stately and capable women of a comprable age to Cre and Calar. Her stern discipline was only matched by her unyielding demeanor. She was not one to make concession or unnecessary negotiation. By unnecessary it should be said that any negotation not in her interest would automatically be deemed tertiary. Appearance wise Fenari was fiery with splitting red locks of flame that seemed as if they could burn anyone in close enough range. And they may very well could! No one one really would test Fenari's principles or methods as they would be surely met with first defeat and then humiliation. It was clear in all regards that Fenari carried the Defetists with assured purpose and that purpose would met at whatever cost there would be. She continued:

"10 years." The phrase repeated over and over in Cre's mind like the constant beckon of an all too close predator. Cre could hardly believe how much had changed in that time. Since discovering the Engaya Soriel had been transformed from an agrarian, agriculture based society into a thriving metaplex of industry and machination. The catalyst for such change rested completely with Engaya and it's unique magical properties. Once one knew how to harness the power within an Engayal, once could accomplish all Cre did that wonderous and horrible night, and so much more. It came to pass that sweeping revolution and transformation did beget the people and landscape of Soriel. It was no surprise that Cre found himself thrust within the middle of the conflict plaguing every living thing on the planet. The crux of the conflict was quite simply - What role and purpose should Engaya serve in the new Soriellian society? Though simply defined, the answer would not have the same luxury. So it was that Cre had become the leader of the prominient caretakers of Soriel known as Faya-Soriel (or For Soriel). Cre's oppostion: The radically progressive Asidian Order who felt Engaya need be harvested to it's absolute maximum utilization. Finally, a third structure came into being. The highly enigmatic Defetist movement felt the breaking of Soriellian society more deeply and more concernful than any other. As a result the Defetists sought to limit the fracturing of social casting as much as possible by imploring highly questionable methods of persuasion and coersion to ensure it simply did not happen.

Of Cre's closest friends only Calar joined his side on Faya-Soriel. Calar had been Cre's closest male friend for as long as both had known. A bit stocky, the brownish-red haired man of firm but porous posture stayed close to his friend after the transformation of society. Calar stood a good few inches taller than his compatriot, and was most easily described by his fervent sense of duty and honor. They had always been important to him. Calar together in arms Cre had provided Faya-Soriel with resiliant and sturdy leadership but the paths to be followed ahead were treacherous and uncertain.

As the unknown emissaries approached the gates of the magical fortress, Cre took a minute to marvel at the fine domain that housed him and his men and women. Truly it was a sight to behold. The fortress in the shape of a sharp spiking castle had been constructed (like most things on Soriel) completely from Engaya. It's magical hull was accentuated by the sleekest talons of precise architectural brillance. This could be seen everywhere from the dim defensive haze guarding the castle, to the jet shaped protrusions eminating from it's outer walls. The fortress stood magnificently in it's own bask of dark blue and green foothills and rock formations. It was as if this monstronsity could have existed naturally in nature, were nature trying to design the perfect defensive air vehicle. A rigid, protective design suited Faya-Soriel just fine given their primary mission - That is as steward and guardian of all matter and energy (living and nonliving) composing the planet Soriel. This philosophy not only shaped the infrastructure of Faya-Soriel it also framed their use of Engaya. Which was that Engaya may be used only in the best interests of Soriel and for none else. While this limited the palette of possible applications, a little creativity on Cre's part allowed Faya-Soriel the versatility and composure it needed to stay the road with the Asidian Order, and the Defetists.

Cre could touch and hold the Engaya from the slightest slither to the largest unwieldly chunk, each piece would form around him and then settle in his hand all with the softness of his mother's touch. It seemed for a moment that if he could focus hard enough then each and every block of Engaya that he had managed to capture and hold in his tiny hands could be made into whatever he pleased. It was now clear that Cre had a certain cavalcade of things, living and nonliving, practical and nonsense in just a few short seconds. At his dispoal; a veritable playground of creatures both natural and unseen to play with easily following his command.

Cre had been conducting a symphony with his orchestrations being no less and no more then just his whimsical desires and undaunted imagination. He could seemingly pour out will and wish from his soul as if it were change in his pocket. No other world could exist to him right now and it wouldn't matter as a new world was being brought into being. As such it was a bad time for Cre to have a moment of doubt but alas a qualm struck his brain like a lightning bolt to the treetops. Cre experienced just a flash of doubt enough to misdirect his thoughts and actions. The result however would be costly. Suddenly Cre lost control over his exhibiation of light and color and all turned against him in one horrible instant. Green faded to black, life to death, forest to desert. Of course this frightened the young one but as he desperately and deftly tried harder and harder to regain control of it, the further away the grand power slipped away from him. just drowned in the Engaya which now fiercely fought him, tooth and nail into submission. Cre tried and clawed and muscled as hard as he could but his efforts were quickly and absolutely met with utter failure and confusion. The land burned and all the beauty and vigor and plentifulness seared into ash and defeat. The river which had once shone bright and golden white now burned crimson red with anger and resentment.

Cre's tears were just about all that could console him in this place. Yet strangely console him they did somewhat. "What just happened?" he thought to himself lost beside the brooding and ominous red waves that seemed poised to swallow him whole. Retiring from his post as master of the river, Cre slumped in defeat and terror. Perhaps the Engaya pitied him in this instant. Perhaps. But all had become quiet again just as quickly as it had turned to rage earlier. Everything returned to being, and to just being. Just as things went on Soriel. All was quiet and all was dismissed into gentle seclusion like a whisper caught in a bottle. What remained now, besides Cre's rocky memories, was that more nothingness somehow pervaded this space than was the case when Cre had arrived. It seemed as though the burning embers that took the dream away shard by shard had ultimately left the environment stripped of it's few notable posessions like rock and sand and even shape itself. "I dare not dance anymore in the sea of imagination." thought Cre to himself although the thought echoed through the now hard and stale cavernous area. Cre decided it best to call it an evening and make for home. Home! There was a concept that warmed his rattled foundation enough to pick up his feet and scamper off, away from the river and the place through the opening that he wasn't quite sure how he found. A faint voice echoed within him that could only have come from the river which only resonated in his spirit in a form he could not decipher. But Cre's spirit moved just as a cloud moves without visible impetus. Cre knew what was to come. As he ran home finding his way through brush and thicket and thin grass and tall grass, his mind raced from the night that had given way to early dawn. Settling himself into bed, Cre could only think of his friends and the secret he must share with them and only them. He would tell them of the rainblow fountain of lucid imagination, the spring of desire and magic, and the power to summon light and life. He could barely sleep that night nor could his friends for some strange reason - Calar, Fenari, Aosi, Trialla, Karai, and Ziakin. All would like awake throughout the night at the premonition of a new world coming into being.

And come into being a new world did. A brave new world filled with magic. That fateful night was 10 years ago to the day. And as Cre rose from slumber in his industrial castle fortress he finally figured out what the Engaya was trying to say to him in that unforgettable instant.

Author's Note: That concludes the prologue. I realize this could all benefit from some serious editing (namely someone who does have a mastery of the English written language *waves at C*) but hopefully the main ideas got across and intrigued people. Onto Chapter 1 shortly. Thanks to anyone that has happened to end up here!

The river floated more than it actually flowed giving the appearance of a heavenly body dancing amongst it's own glory. Gleaming with light and moisture which combined to form a sprinkling well of vapors, the river invited Cre as if a hot beverage on a bitter winter's day. Sounding like the mightiest ocean on Soriel while at the same time emitting the graces of the smallest stream, this enchanted moving body bustled and brimmed with sentience. Intense gushes of formidable strength paradoxically complemented with a waterfall like movement which suggested it's contents were pure and unfouled. Cre couldn't help but wonder in agape astoundment at the whole thing and considered if the river held the same sense of shock at him. Cre soon found himself swept up in the oncoming tides of the river, feeling as though he was in playground of the Gods, his excitement catapaulting in unison with the crests of the river. He felt at home in this place. Wrapping himself in the jest of the moment, Cre found himself bespackled with amusement and joy as he immersed himself in the feathery underbed of the river.

Just then in the coordinated beats and surges of Cre's playful merrymaking, a spark flew out with the majesty of a giant hawk owning that which seemed to contain it. As if escaping death the spark, not of fire but of white heat flew to the wall opposing Cre and displayed itself in dizzying textures before exstinguishing itself. It was at this time that Cre observed his environment resembled a damp, half-lit underground cave. This firework, this rogue particle; could it have possibly been triggered by Cre? For but a few seconds later the stalactite walls of the underground passage holding Cre and his river turned quickly into an illustrous tapestry of green lushness and vibrancy. Something was happening. What exactly that was had no definition or justification. The world around Cre was changing as he danced in the whisps and cusps of the flowing liquid before him. Without control, without whim or will, Cre was manifesting the world around him. From a dusk, dry hole in the woods, somewhere beyond what Cre knows, he was transforming landscapes and bringing matter and life into being. Where once laid barren rocks for millenia, habitation and forest had come to be. As Cre frolicked and sent rushes of water all around so in turn did plants and animals and beings and things form from the splashes of water on the palette of nothingness. Droplets of magic coincided and glided with one another, thrust in embrace, or merging to form the next miracle. The spontaneous creatures and living entities finding existance echoed Cre's innocent actions, as he flirted with the waters all around him. This 'water' so to speak was magical water indeed. Known simply on Soriel as Engaya, this magical substance of dream crafting was really the blood of Soriel's heart.

The 9 purple moons of Soriel fell into musky darkness as the child known simply as 'Cre' settled himself in for another night of carefree adventure. Such was his way, his purpose. That is, to seek something beyond the gray hills and tilting pastures of the mundane land in which he resided, the very same plots and farms which comprised the entirety of his life. So went the existence of a Soriellian from birth to death; to work the land, to gather it's fruits, to deliver them unto tomorrow, so that tomorrow it can be done again. And that was all that need be. For the good life is a life lived to prepare only for the next dawn, and then upon next dawn to prepare for the dawn after that. It was simple but it was what the earnest people of Soriel knew and it suited them just fine.

Not Cre though. No not him at all. Cre seemed beckoned by a different call and a hint of danger. No one really could explain the overdeveloped pecking curiousity of the boy but they thought it best that way. Sneaking out at night after evening chores to patrol the family homestead so he could live out his desires through the employ of make believe is what Cre most cherished out of his day. No one thought too much of Cre's nightly exploits of summoning hordes of angels and dragons to fight with him against the dark tide of monstrous villains and mythical beasts. Even the faraway neighbors found no reason to alert Cre's parents past the hour of their bedtime just because of a neglible racket upon the gray hills. In fact farmer Eldre found it rather amusing that he was treated to a free presentation of Cre's imaginary theater each night. And really what was the harm anyway? Cre always put himself to bed in plenty of time for the routine early rising he would inevitably face the next morning. So Eldre worried not, just as how most worried very little about those affairs which didn't really change the course of things.

Something was peculiar about this night however and Cre was all over it. Like a rabbit to the outstretching of the farmers' crops, Cre was moved to pounce upon this night as if compelled by something unseen yet omnipresent. Cre could detect a scent in the air somehow estranged from the usual odors of wetted, newly planted grass, burning wood, and freshly groomed leaves that left him in dire need of chasing his intuition. So chase it he did, all the way past the gray hills and the tilting pastures, and the black covered mountains, all the way to a small opening just past some brush that he had not before seen. This may have well been an alternate universe with the distance Cre traveled and the small inlets and clearings he was able so deftly to traverse. Through small holes and even smaller soft pores in the wild Cre found himself amongst something, but nothing he could discern too easily. Somehow, before him flew a river of pure white snow, or rather snow it may very well could have been. The River carried itself perplexingly into oblivion. The only thing more peculiar than it's undetermined destination was it's undefinable source. The river just was, as the river just is. Then again so it was with everyone else on Soriel, except for Cre.