Kai Vhetin
Elves did not tell stories.
Stories were trivial things, and trivial things were not for the elves to take part in. They were childish, the lies you tell yourself that you may feel comforted in the dark.
No, elves did not tell stories.
They told histories. That was one of the Mandates, the divine stipulations set out by Sixit. And "histories" did not just entail the recording of what had been. It entailed the recording of what was, what had been, and what was yet to be.
And foremost of the histories was the tale of Kai Vhetin - the Clean Slate.
The End of the World.
Cythene Vai'an was reading. It was all she did, now. All she was allowed to do. The elders said that it was because the young needed to learn the history and culture of the elves, because the history and culture of the elves were dwindling. They were right, in a way. Their culture was dying out.
No amount of learning and reading would stop that, though.
She was reading a second generation copy of the Elvenhost scriptures. Of Astaf, Sixit, and Kirth. Of the beginning, of the old days, and of the days to come.
I walked from the Rotted Wood to Ephurin. For seven days I journeyed, eating no food and drinking little, with only my meditations to console me. Who I may have passed by I do not know. And on the eighth day of my pilgrimage I received a vision from Astaf the First, of her coming dominion. When the demons of emotion came from over the sea, Astaf fought for the people of this land. Overwhelmed by their number and black power, Astaf was cast down into a deep sleep. She slept for a thousand generations, and is still sleeping, but soon she would awake. When she awoke, I saw her begin to take her revenge on the demons. She created a great device, an anathema, to destroy all of the demons and their dark host, and it was called Kai Vhetin. And the dead were counted in number to be one score thousand thousands, such were the dead from this great anathema. And then, Astaf came down from the high heavens, and smote her enemies to the ground, such that there were none left who could oppose her, so great was her smiting of them. And when all was lost, when the world was ended, Verndari laid finally to rest, Astaf began anew. She used the last of her infinite power to create again, a new world, a fresh paradise for us to dwell on. And the angels of Astaf came down from their nests and created a great Storm, and cleaned the land, and ancient beings from before the dawn of time came up from underneath the earth and reformed it into a new Promised Land, free from the corruption of the Old. And over it all reigned Astaf supreme. Such was my vision.Cythene yawned. She'd read that a hundred times. The elders said not to dwell on Kai Vhetin, no matter its significance. It surely would not come in their age. Much would be different when Astaf returned from her great journey. That was what they said. Others - the Wood Elves - said that Kai Vhetin was upon them. That the sickness that ravaged the human lands, that spread inexorably towards the dwarves and elves, was Kai Vhetin, was Astaf's Anathema. But that was just Wood Elf talk. Cythene was going to take a walk.
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Comments