Kiaer fell into the rift by accident. There was no dip in the sand (at least no more so than any usual dip on a beach) no tears in the sky, no crashes or explosions of light and sound before he entered the other world. He was simply walking on the beach, doing his best to forget about the faults of this world, when he suddenly looked up to see a completely different beach, in a completely different world. The world of myth. But it isn't myth. This world is real. You see glimpses of it when you are suddenly entranced by on small flower. There are millions in the field surrounding, but this one caught your eye, and you're amazed by the delicated intricacy that you see. Maybe that never happened to you, but it will. There are rifts all over our world, though most are not nearly big enough to pass through, but they let in a glimpse of the beauty and innocence that is the other world. But that world is falling into turmoil. Wars are breaking out and the rays of beauty and innocence that once fell through into our world, are now rays of darkness, anger, hate, fighting, and fear. Our world turns upside down during the times of war in this alternate world. War there inspires war here. And vice versa. Everyone is unsettled. Those in power are anxious, they see danger or threats of danger around every corner and they make war, thinking it will protect them from the danger. But they really are only making the situation more dangerous for themselves and all those around them. Atomic warfare is proposed and threatened. Battles are fought that no one could ever possibly win without inumerable deaths and countless breaks in mental sanity. Things of this nature are so common nowadays and we think nothing of it. But every once in a while, we come across a glimmer of hope reflected in the simple things of life and we are smothered by the question of how things so beautiful, so real and genuine could exist in a world so ugly, fake, and plastic. There is an answer. The world that is thought to be myth, that is alternate of our world, though with many similarities, has something we do not have. Elyon. Creator, ruler, and Father of all of this world, there are few things that happen that do not happen by His will and plan to help better things, though they may not seem promising at the time. Wars happen because of the revolting of Elyon's people. Why would people with a Ruler so honorable and just and kind as Elyon is, revolt against Him? There is a simple explanation. They do not trust His decisions. They are not willing to release hold of their pitiful lives to let Him make something so magical and fantastic out of them as He had with their world. Our world had this chance once. Honestly, we still do, we have gone so far, with our technology and plasticness that there is no room for Elyon. But this alternate world, Atherik, they are going downhill in a similar way as Earth. They are losing all hope and replacing it with false pleasures that do not last at all, let alone an eternity. That is why the Risers were created. But that will be explained soon enough.
Kiaer trudged along the shore. He did his best to raise his spirits, trying to think of something positive, something that wasn't as completely dreadful as everything that was in his mind at the moment. His jeans sagged low as was the fashion. Not because he particularly liked the fashion, but because he could find no pants in his size and these were the best he could get, jeans two sizes too big. He didn't care. He was looking at the ground, watching the wet sand squish between his toes. He stopped in the water just deep enough to give him the sensation of the sand moving out from under his feet as the waves so tiny that reached this far up the shore, went back out. He looked at the beach not seeing the waves, or the sunset, or the ocean. This was his favorite place to be. His mind cleared with the absence of people, the scent of salt in the air, and the sand and sharp bits of shell that his feet had become accustomed to shifted and sank beneath his feet. He was a tall boy, nearly six two, with a fair, though not pasty, complexion. His hair was as dark as the night, as was his brow which shadowed his shocking minty green eyes. His jaw was strong, muscles clenched often in silent anger at the criticism so unfairly dealt upon him by the townspeople. His body was strong, having to do much physical labor to receive the few dollars desperate farmers or dockworkers would give him in exchange for help with the heavy lifting and many other forms of manual labor. He didn't mind the work, he enjoyed it. It gave him something to do to keep his mind from going mad. But even with the odd jobs he picked up, he still had far too much time on his hands to think. He didn't like to think very much anymore. Once, he had valued his time to think so highly that he would look forward to it all throughout a days work at the dock or in the fields, or even, not too long ago, in school. But after sixteen years of thinking, Kiaer found that when you thought too much, you stumbled upon subjects that would either take you somewhere you'd rather avoid, or somewhere that you could never explain. He had often stumbled upon topics and concepts that he couldn't understand and he wondered if anyone in the world understood them or had even thought of them before. But he couldn't ask anyone. They would just think him crazy. And perhaps he was.
As he looked at the sand that was washing from under his feet, Kiaer felt suddenly, that something had changed. He jerked his head up, green eyes as alert as a cat's. The sight that met him made him dizzy, so dizzy that he lost his balance and fell into the ocean. He sat there, sea water washing over his legs and hands, and stared at the sight that had met him.
There was a wood, a wood along the raised edge of the beach. The trees that made up this wood were unlike any Kiaer had ever seen back in the town he'd been raised in, the town he had never left in the entire course of his sixteen years, the town that he would never be able to think of as home, but have to call home for lack of a better word. This, was nothing like the beach that bordered that town. There had been no woods, especially not like this, nor a sunset as vivid and brilliant as the one that now shone over calmly splashing ocean waters. The water reflected the colors perfectly, shining a mirror image of the flaming sky up into the world for all to see. The purples and reds, oranges and yellows, the pinks and accenting grays, all rippled in the calm waters as softly as they flamed in the darkening sky. This Kiaer saw and registered as beautiful, but his impression was still held by the immense forest. A wood so large one could get lost in it. Perhaps, you say this is not such a fantastic thing. You have been to many woods where the trees were large and getting lost was no great phenomenon. But you have to understand that, not only had Kiaer never seen a grove of trees whose number was over fifty. He could always see from one end of the wood to the other, and if you were far enough away, the slight hills of the flat land allowed you to see that it was no more than a guilt grove. A group of trees planted by those who felt guilty about tearing up all the naturally occurring ones. Also understand, my dear reader, that no matter where in your world you have been, you have never seen trees as large as these. Their trunks were hundreds of feet in every direction, providing a base strong enough to support the immense height of their trunks and the vast span of their branches. Their trunks were many colors, varying from an dark ebony, to a light mahogany, to a pale sandy color only slightly darker than the sand. The trees were large enough for a house! There was probably enough room for an entire family to live together comfortably, especially if they extended their living up the trunk of the tree, making a house of many levels. That is, if the tree would survive such an excavating of its inards. After he saw the forest, Kiaer was so entranced that he didn't even notice the small man creeping up to him, or the long, curved knife in the small man's hand.
Kiaer trudged along the shore. He did his best to raise his spirits, trying to think of something positive, something that wasn't as completely dreadful as everything that was in his mind at the moment. His jeans sagged low as was the fashion. Not because he particularly liked the fashion, but because he could find no pants in his size and these were the best he could get, jeans two sizes too big. He didn't care. He was looking at the ground, watching the wet sand squish between his toes. He stopped in the water just deep enough to give him the sensation of the sand moving out from under his feet as the waves so tiny that reached this far up the shore, went back out. He looked at the beach not seeing the waves, or the sunset, or the ocean. This was his favorite place to be. His mind cleared with the absence of people, the scent of salt in the air, and the sand and sharp bits of shell that his feet had become accustomed to shifted and sank beneath his feet. He was a tall boy, nearly six two, with a fair, though not pasty, complexion. His hair was as dark as the night, as was his brow which shadowed his shocking minty green eyes. His jaw was strong, muscles clenched often in silent anger at the criticism so unfairly dealt upon him by the townspeople. His body was strong, having to do much physical labor to receive the few dollars desperate farmers or dockworkers would give him in exchange for help with the heavy lifting and many other forms of manual labor. He didn't mind the work, he enjoyed it. It gave him something to do to keep his mind from going mad. But even with the odd jobs he picked up, he still had far too much time on his hands to think. He didn't like to think very much anymore. Once, he had valued his time to think so highly that he would look forward to it all throughout a days work at the dock or in the fields, or even, not too long ago, in school. But after sixteen years of thinking, Kiaer found that when you thought too much, you stumbled upon subjects that would either take you somewhere you'd rather avoid, or somewhere that you could never explain. He had often stumbled upon topics and concepts that he couldn't understand and he wondered if anyone in the world understood them or had even thought of them before. But he couldn't ask anyone. They would just think him crazy. And perhaps he was.
As he looked at the sand that was washing from under his feet, Kiaer felt suddenly, that something had changed. He jerked his head up, green eyes as alert as a cat's. The sight that met him made him dizzy, so dizzy that he lost his balance and fell into the ocean. He sat there, sea water washing over his legs and hands, and stared at the sight that had met him.
There was a wood, a wood along the raised edge of the beach. The trees that made up this wood were unlike any Kiaer had ever seen back in the town he'd been raised in, the town he had never left in the entire course of his sixteen years, the town that he would never be able to think of as home, but have to call home for lack of a better word. This, was nothing like the beach that bordered that town. There had been no woods, especially not like this, nor a sunset as vivid and brilliant as the one that now shone over calmly splashing ocean waters. The water reflected the colors perfectly, shining a mirror image of the flaming sky up into the world for all to see. The purples and reds, oranges and yellows, the pinks and accenting grays, all rippled in the calm waters as softly as they flamed in the darkening sky. This Kiaer saw and registered as beautiful, but his impression was still held by the immense forest. A wood so large one could get lost in it. Perhaps, you say this is not such a fantastic thing. You have been to many woods where the trees were large and getting lost was no great phenomenon. But you have to understand that, not only had Kiaer never seen a grove of trees whose number was over fifty. He could always see from one end of the wood to the other, and if you were far enough away, the slight hills of the flat land allowed you to see that it was no more than a guilt grove. A group of trees planted by those who felt guilty about tearing up all the naturally occurring ones. Also understand, my dear reader, that no matter where in your world you have been, you have never seen trees as large as these. Their trunks were hundreds of feet in every direction, providing a base strong enough to support the immense height of their trunks and the vast span of their branches. Their trunks were many colors, varying from an dark ebony, to a light mahogany, to a pale sandy color only slightly darker than the sand. The trees were large enough for a house! There was probably enough room for an entire family to live together comfortably, especially if they extended their living up the trunk of the tree, making a house of many levels. That is, if the tree would survive such an excavating of its inards. After he saw the forest, Kiaer was so entranced that he didn't even notice the small man creeping up to him, or the long, curved knife in the small man's hand.
CautionwetPaint
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