The world is silent, fading away as I write. That’s the beauty of it, words tripping over each other, eager to be heard. I can see the shores of the Four Worlds, and the lapping of waves. They are young, like puppies, slobbering all over themselves with love. It’s a brand new creation, waiting for me to tell its stories.
The first place I drop into in the Western World, and I find myself in awe as I stare at a lifelike statue. It towers above me like the giants made it, or maybe the immortals dropped it out of the sky. There’s not a way it was made from hands like mine, yet, maybe I am limiting myself with my beliefs. Maybe I have landed in a world where anything is possible.
The faces of the statue arrested me, and as I study them I realize I am looking at great warriors. Take the male in the middle. His gaze intrigues me although he is made of stone. I could see him in the real life, his hair is blond, his body hard and muscular. He isn’t that tall but he is wise. I can see the glint of it in his eyes, and the weapon he carries makes my heart stop. It’s a sword, with oracles flying off the end of it. I can see them moving, how can it be?
Dive into the beginning of the Four Worlds told from the perspective of the #storyteller. https://wp.me/p5VvTI-dd
His name comes to me like a hidden thought. Crinte the Wise. Whispered through the winds of time. He wants me to go back to the beginning. He wants me to tell the story, his story, their story. The story of the Four Worlds. It’s a young world, less than 1,000 years old.
It’s unorganized, the people groups haven’t settled on the law of the land, nor do they have Kings and Lords and Rulers that bring everyone together. The Western World is surrounded by a great body of water called Oceantic, yet they’ve never built ships, they don’t even know what they are.
I stand in the middle of their world, knowing the time has come for me to take up my pen, and begin my tale. A tale that not only belongs to me but was whispered in my ear, drifting through my mind, from those who lived it. These are their stories. These are their great deeds. They took me on an adventure I can never forget. Their stories haunt me, begging to be let out.
Here is what I saw with my own eyes.
This is the beginning.