Mioverold. Daiden repeated the word in his head. It struck his heart with a passion. He embraced the world, his new home. With a deep breath, Daiden felt the aeter swell in his lungs. It was different from the energy outside, it was his own. He stretched his arms and knelt to touch the grass – sticky and strange. At the sight, the three-eyed squirrel fled into the forest he had first noticed. He observed it then, an abundance of colours that added to the oddity of the large trees.
Daiden inhaled with nervous energy. He calmed his chest, now aware of every breath. His anxiety peaked in that moment. It took some time. He accepted it.
“I’ve only changed worlds, not hearts,” thought Daiden, with a bitter smile. It only barely helped, the light of Ehedus. “I need to overcome this on my own. No medication. No psychologists. Just me and my anxiety, battling away.”
With a laugh, Daiden shook his head and straightened to the reality in front of him. He turned to address Aelius but shuddered instead. The view threatened common sense, a site of absolute blackness – no land, no tress, nothing. Daiden swallowed his saliva, dry from a mix of complex emotions. He watched what could only be described as the edge of the world, Mioverold. Debris floated at a slow pace, with specks of grass, and merely splinters of wood. There was no life in sight, nowhere.
Daiden followed the darkness to a strange, red pillar of light. It shone with prominence, an existence within the blackness. Everything gathered to the pillar, everything significant. It stretched to the heavens, piercing a swirl of clouds, surrounded by more darkness. Daiden feared the presence of nothingness; he understood it inherently, from the knowledge bestowed onto him.
“Is it eating this world?” wondered Daiden, in a state of panic.
“We call it Nilheim,” explained Aelius, with unnatural calm. “It’s where our world ends, a strange, almost unexplainable power that first emerged three thousand years ago. We’ve lost a tenth of Mioverold to it, and it continues to grow without hindrance. You’re here because of it.”
“What?” blurted Daiden.
Aelius tilted his head with a puzzled expression on his face, and then laughed in realization of a mistake. He patted Daiden on the shoulders and offered a wry smile of comfort.
“My apologies, Daiden Lost,” said Aelius. “I appear to have forgotten my transition.”
Daiden scratched the back of his head and repeated, “What?”
“An Evaluator in transition from the Earthen Realm is likened best to a guide,” explained Aelius. “I’m supposed to offer information, the bare minimum, at least.”
“The bare minimum?” asked Daiden, masking mild frustration. He remembered his once Evaluator’s cynicism in that moment, from before passing his test.
“Don’t get me wrong,” said Aelius, without any worry over Daiden’s opinion of him. “I’m merely excited by the turbulence of your existence. The thing is, this world – it’s dying in front of our very eyes. Around three thousand years ago, the gods of Mioverold made a pact with the gods of the Earthen Realm, to thin the veil between our worlds. It was an act of desperation.”
“Wait, wait, slow down!” said Daiden, hurriedly. “Religion, gods, they actually exist in the Earthen Realm?”
Aelius clicked his tongue at the interruption and continued at a slower pace. “Your perception should make it easier for me to explain this, I suppose. When it became difficult for us to mitigate Nilheim, our gods requested outside help – people born with an inherent thirst for knowledge and impatience, urgent for success given their finite lifespan. It became necessary for us to think differently, and who better to usher such an age than a symbol from the Earthen Realm?”
Daiden quietened at the revelation. He lowered his head in thought, and returned to the conversation with a simple question, “What did the Earthen Realm get in return?”
“Well, the gods were offered sanctuary here, in Mioverold,” revealed Aelius, with a shrug. “Just the same as ours, the Earthen Gods rely on faith. The march of time hasn’t been kind to them, so they were instead allowed to create a haven here. You’ll know more in due time.”
Atheism. Science. Daiden remembered two words that helped with a half-explanation. He pencilled in a mental note in his head and moved from the topic without issue. His eyes trailed to the red pillar once more, more so the path that led to it. He wondered about it, the fall from the edge. He shivered at the thought. His mind wandered to some of the offered information then, resting at the concept of age.
“You want people with a finite lifespan and a sense of urgency,” repeated Daiden, almost a whisper. “Does this not imply to your people?”
“No, I’ve been alive for fifteen hundred years now,” said Aelius, simply. “That should be enough of an explanation for you. We’ve lulled because of the curse of our birth, the Curse of Immortals. Our only death is in the path of blood and murder. It’s an incongruent problem. We seek it, we avoid it – we wish an end, but fear its coming. And then Nilheim answered the incongruence; we fear it.”
Daiden felt a little surprise, but it was easier to overcome than the realization of a mythical realm beyond his own. Every answer came with its own set of questions. It excited Daiden in a way. His anxiety resurfaced, but his lips curved to a smile in the face of it this time.
“This is something that would require conversation with more people, but what about me; what kind of laws am I subjected to in this world?” wondered Daiden, curiously.
“If you’re worried about it, then don’t,” interrupted Aelius, reading his charge’s thoughts. “You’re a special existence in name, but the world will treat you like any other. You won’t die unless killed.”
Daiden gulped. His feet moved without thought, at a slow pace, towards the edge of Mioverold. He peered into the darkness and felt his heart hollow from the weight. It didn’t bother him as much. He rationalized a calm by remembering the nature of his selection into Mioverold – random, arbitrary. There was little pressure. But the situation held some appeal to him, to his promise. He inhaled once more, only with confidence this time. He accepted it, the reality of the situation, and in seeking a path of growth.
“Not immediately, but in time; I will need to actively partake in the research around Nilheim,” thought Daiden, with a nod. Aloud he said, “Well, let’s get started, then. What do I do first?”
Aelius heard the words in a haze. The lull allowed his mind to slip into something else entirely; he pitied Daiden despite the latter’s supposed role. “He’ll find out on his own. He’ll find out on his own. Nilheim can’t be resolved; it’s merely an excuse to luck into a political weapon. Time will tell.”
And then it occurred, a crackle that they both heard – the sound of thunder.
