The Vision of Moderna

Long ago, in the glory days of Moderna, pure Myth pulsed through the air, vibrating with such intensity that one could harness it with ease. The true masters of Myth were well-respected as heroes and leaders, ushering in kingdoms of glorious plunder and victory, but also heavy in the division between the races of the world, each thinking their unique focuses and uses of Myth made them superior. Angels blessed with feathermancy, vampires with sangromancy, demons with sin marks, and beastmen with various animal forms, no one could agree with who was truly most deserving. Wars were waged over which race was the worthiest to consecrate control of the Myth within the world. However, one race was certain that such conflicts would never come to an end and remained far from the battles with their unique gifts and focuses for the Myth: The Elves.

The Elves were gifted with special eyes since the first ones created in the world, most uncertain of why their eyes were so different from the other races, but the Elder Council that studied the capabilities of Myth unlocked that secret in the privacy of their sanctum: Ocularmancy. The Elders could focus the Myth into their eyes, unlocking a vast array of abilities that no other races could replicate, being able to see and know things through this refined vision. The Head Elder Itham wished to dive deeper into the recesses of the power of Myth to find the limits of this odd gift.

Itham was quietly meditating within the confines of the sanctum, focusing on the orb of myth in his hands. He had been in this state for many days, causing the other Elders to become concerned with what he was doing. After a brief discussion, they elected Syg to go in; the two had been friends since childhood and he would be able to reach through to Itham in whatever state he was in. He would go into meditative trances like this for hours, having done so many times in the previous months, but to be in this state for so long was taxing on the Head Elder’s body. Syg had to pull him out of the trance despite the risk as none had ever tried to forcefully pull another out of such a deep trance.

The younger Elder shakily placed a hand on Itham’s shoulder, but there was no tension, no reaction to the contact. Walking around, all he could see was Itham’s dark skin highlighted by the light of the orb in his hands and his eyes, which looked far different from what any of them knew. While their Ocularmancy could allow their eyes to adopt different shapes and colors, Itham’s eyes looked as though the universe itself was projected into them, colors swirled within the sockets, and small white sparks floating by. This had to be stopped as Itham was clearly messing with something beyond typical Ocularmancy.

Before Syg could lay a hand on Itham, the orb of light flashed intensely as Itham’s eyes flashed equally bright. His head snapped back with a pained yelp as his whole body tensed and trembled for a moment. Syg stumbled back briefly in fright, observing the whole scene warily before it all ended as quickly as it started. The orb faded away as Itham limply fell back, laying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling as his eyes slowly returned to grayish-green. Syg rushed to Itham’s side and carefully helped him sit up, the Head Elder worn and delirious from the event.

“Itham, what did you just do?” Syg pleaded in heavy concern, his hands and eyes glowing dimly as he checked his friend’s vitals for any anomalies, finding none left by the event.

“I – I saw something, Syg. Something horrible; something that has to be stopped before it's too late.” Itham muttered breathlessly, looking up at his friend with wide eyes filled with a mixture of wisdom and fear. “I’ve seen things – beautiful and terrible things. The world in ruins, all life wiped away, the Heart of Moderna sapped dry in a slew of violence and bloodshed.” The muttering sounded crazy to Syg initially, but the genuine fear in his friend’s eyes told him it was no story or dream. This vision he saw was genuine. “She – She wants me to stop it. To protect the Heart and world.”

“How?” Syg asked. They had been trying to stay out of the conflicts between the other races for the safety of their people, knowing that to pick a side to support would incur the wrath of the other races and thrust them into a war they weren’t ready or able to fight in. They weren’t alone as the jackalopians were doing much the same with their own kind. The safety of their kind rested on them keeping as far out of the conflict as they could, even if it meant the innocents of other races suffering heavily.

Itham heavily sighed, lifting his head to look up at the wall before him, a mural of Moderna’s history and origin painted upon it. Set in the center of the mural, among the paintings of feral beastmen, righteous angels, and feeble humans, was a large crystal heart. Itham slowly stood with the help of Syg and shuffled over, pressing a hand on the crystal as he bowed his head for a moment in thought. Myth briefly shimmered across the mural in an iridescent wave before shimmering across the Head Elder’s body. He lifted his head and slowly turned back to Syg, his hand still on the crystal as he stared at the other, his eyes looking like the universe once more.

“Call a meeting between the leaders of the kingdoms here.”

Syg was surprised by the order, uncertain what Itham was planning until he noticed the state of his eyes. He quietly nodded then turned and hurried out of the room to begin arranging for messages to be sent out. Whatever Itham was planning, it had to be by Her will and they had learned not to question her will and intent. They had to see it through to whatever end it may come.

The preparations leading up to the meeting within the week were tense for the Elder Council under the orders of Itham. They arranged a large room in the private sanctum, including an odd addition of a smaller chamber beneath the table that wasn’t explained. It was left open and barren the entire week leading up to the meeting as Itham closed himself away to focus on preparing for the meeting. The morning of the conference, the table had been moved to cover the spot and secured by magical binds, leaving the rest of the Elders uncertain of what Itham had placed there but unable to do anything regarding it as they were sent away before the meeting began.

The kingdoms’ leaders arrived at the meeting chamber by their own means: Flight, portals, or instinctual tracking, whatever their natural gifts allowed them to achieve. This was the first time in ages that all the races were in a single room together and Itham could feel the tension between them all. The Angelic Sibyl and Demonic Prince were always at each other’s throats regarding their tireless fighting. Beastman Chief and Vampire Master glared daggers at each other and bared fangs in a quiet fight for dominance. The Human King and Jester Queen are at odds in their moral bickering and debates of order versus chaos. Itham quickly stepped up to greet them respectfully and seat them in their places at the table, all already set with delights to make them comfortable and give them a moment to settle in before he spoke.

“I understand this request came at a confusing and tense time between all of your kingdoms, but something has come to light, and I felt it to be my responsibility to bring it to your attention,” Itham stated. “We all know that these battles and wars between your kingdoms have been going on for years, but I am hoping to try and get you all to understand that letting this fighting continue will only lead to a grizzly end.”

“Is that so?” The Angelic Sibyl remarked, sipping her drink. “But for who in particular? We all know my kind is fairly hard to kill.”

“You’re not the only long-living being in this room, airhead.” The Vampire Master scoffed. “We naturally have outlived many of your kind by centuries.”

“Yeah, like a bunch of cockroaches skittering about in the dark recesses of your castles and forests and crypts.” The Beastman Chief growled.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black there, fleabag!” The Jester Queen teased. “All you do is stalk through woodlands and nip at the hinds of anything that doesn’t look like you!”

“Coming from a leader that looks and sounds like a child and acts as such too.” The Human King chided.

“Shut it, King Snooze-fest!” The Jester Queen snapped.

“Silence, all of you. Please.” Itham commanded. “And this danger is a threat to all of us, including those that have avoided fighting in the war. The relentless fighting and squabbling over the essence of the world have been heavily draining the Heart. And, if this fighting continues any further, then all living things that have been thriving off the Myth it has gifted to this world will suffer and die. The races will wither away, the Myth of the world will fade, the Heart will shatter if this fighting continues.”

“Those are some heavy words from the quietest party in this war.” The Beastman Chief stated. “Although – perhaps there is some truth to them.”

“Oh yes, believe the pacifist knife-ear that has literally been sitting on his hands the whole time.” The Jester Queen scoffed. “How do we know he’s even telling the truth? He might just be lying to swoop in and snag the Heart for himself.”

“That is a possibility.” The Vampire Master wondered.

“The Elves haven’t been involved in the war at all. What reason would he have to pull such a ruse?” The Human King countered.

“Well, it depends on his source.” The Angelic Sybil spoke up. “If his source is genuine and dependable, then we can trust him.” She turned her attention to the Head Elder. “So, where did you learn of such events to come?”

Itham bit his tongue, unsure how to explain as the Elves’ gift in Ocularmancy was a well-kept secret, and revealing it in such a way could possibly hurt his neutrality in this situation. However, withholding the source of the information could also hurt the fragile trust within this room. There wasn’t a decent middle ground to stand upon here, but he had to try.

“I was gifted the information by Her.” Itham disclosed bluntly. “She reached out to me during one of my meditations recently and showed me the path our world was set upon through our choices to fight and bicker over Myth and the Heart. She never intended us to use our gifts and abilities to fight and squabble. She wanted us to grow together, not tear each other apart.”

“Oh really?” The Jester Queen interjected. “So, the Creator that hasn’t spoken to anyone in centuries and let this fighting go on for this long suddenly decided to reach out and talk to someone not even involved in the fighting? How does that make any sense? And this is me asking that question!”

“She may have a point there.” The Angelic Sybil noted. “She hasn’t tried to contact anyone in all this time, but She chooses now to speak to someone? And Her choice of messenger to deliver this warning was you? If it were one of my own, maybe it’d be more believable.”

“Of course, you’d say that.” The Demon Prince griped. “So uppity and self-righteous, you couldn’t imagine anyone else having the pleasure of interacting with Her years after she abandoned one of your own to the tides of the wild world. As if any other race isn’t worthy of speaking to Her.”

“I’d have to agree with the Prince.” The Beastman Chief attested. “There have been stories of others receiving word from Her.”

“None of which have ever been proven.” The Vampire Master contended. “And, even then, those all happened years ago after the initial creation of Moderna. After a few centuries, She went silent and no one has claimed to have spoken to her aside from nutjobs and oppressed religious cult leaders.”

“Yeah, most of those cult leaders being, guess what? Vampires, angels, and jesters!” The Human King refuted.

“We aren’t a bunch of wingnut cultists anymore!” The Jester Queen barked.

“No, but you’re certainly close enough to one with the chaos and disorder of your kingdom!” The Human King scorned.

At this point, the room erupted into loud arguing between the leaders, all with their views for and against Itham’s claim bleeding into the things that divided them all in the first place. The Head Elder knew at this point simple words would not be enough to make them realize the error of their ways – he had to show them. Luckily, he planned for that.

Itham lowered his head and focused for a moment, the air in the room growing heavy as a shimmer of iridescence wavers in the air. After a moment, the table began to groan and shift, looking as if it were breathing, causing everyone in the room to grow quiet and quickly back away, all summoning their weapons as the table further creaked and began to split open in the middle, a bright glow emitting from the crevice. A large orb of Myth slowly floated up into view, iridescence pulsing off it in the rhythm of a quiet heartbeat. After a long moment, the orb cracked open, revealing a large eye staring at all of them at the same time, a galactic universe swirling peacefully within it. Once all the leaders locked eyes with it, their own eyes shifted to match it and their bodies tense as the vision flooded their minds.

The leaders witnessed much of what Itham did in his own vision: They saw their kingdoms clashing violently in the barren wastelands of their homes, innocents losing their lives in the siege attacks yet to be planned, and the land slowly dying as the fighting continued. They witnessed their own deaths as they drained the last of the Myth from The Heart and crumbled in exhaustion, unable to heal their own wounds. They see The Heart in its pristine crystal form, but only for only a moment before it cracked and chipped, fading into a dull rock before shattering into dust and fragments. They see the world, drained of life and Myth, a wasteland of pain and suffering, painted by the bloodshed, by their own violent choices. They saw their world die in the worst way possible: Because of them.

As quickly as the eyes entranced them, the leaders awoke from their trances, sitting up from where they collapsed and looking around the room. Nothing had changed, nothing was destroyed. Everything was as it was before the vision, the horrible vision they all had witnessed together, seeing the knowing look in each other’s eyes of what they had witnessed. They all slowly climbed to their feet, but the Angelic Sybil was the first to notice Itham unmoving from the floor, rushing over to his side to aid him. She found his eyes to be the same as the eye they all looked at, the one that had shown them the vision. She understood what had happened and quickly called for aid, the other leaders swiftly moving to aid Itham’s condition or otherwise seek help from the city.

“It was Her.” The Angelic Sybil leered, focusing her Myth into trying to heal his eyes. “Only She would allow someone to look so deep into the world to see such horrors.”

“It would seem so.” The Vampire Master murmured, pressing his hand against the flesh of Itham’s palm as blood tendrils snake beneath the skin. “We were all too blind to see it ourselves, but he wasn’t. That’s why She chose him – She wanted up to know the truth and told the only one we might listen to.”

“Indeed – but at what cost?”

Despite the efforts of the leaders, Itham never awoke, having fallen so deep into his final trance that not even the Elders could pull him free. He was lost to the expanse of the Heart now, though his body remained with them, protected by the Myth he had used to create the eye that showed the other leaders the vision he saw. He gave up so much to ensure that they knew the truth of their current path and allow them the chance to change it. They wouldn’t let his noble sacrifice be in vain. The leaders remained long enough to draft up the treaty that would bring all the fighting to an end, allowing each other to live in peace and attempt to pursue the growth that She wanted them to embrace all this time.

An era of Enlightenment swept over Moderna soon after, the races mingled and merged, studying Myth and the things it was capable of, imbuing its power in ways once unthought. But as the world grew and flourished, none would forget the event that sparked this history of evolution and growth as the leader ensured Itham was remembered as the first Vessel of the Heart. His body never aged in his eternal trance, sealed away to protect his immortal body from harm deep within the walls of the old Elven kingdom. Many say, She is awaiting the day the Heart will be at risk once again, the day Itham may awaken from his trance to aid the world once more in such dire straits.

May that day never come.