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The beach is a quiet place, waves lapping gently along the rocky shore. Traveler takes a breath as they look out over the darkened open water. The last purple-pink rays of daylight are floating at the edge of the ocean, the clouds held tight above it, darkening the sky further.
The camp was a small place, nothing much more than a bedroll and a firepit with a few stones to sit on. It’s warm in the early summer heat that still sits heavy in the air. They add a few more sticks to the fire, stirring the coals to flare up and begin to devour the freshly added wood.
Traveler stares up into the stars above them, barely visible in the early blue hours of the night. It’s beautiful though, the constant sound of the ocean waves lapping on the shore and the shuffle of creatures in the nearby treeline. The song of cicadas and birds fading out and making way for the soft chirps of crickets. A breeze blows over the shoreline, ruffling Traveler’s hair and sending the flames of the campfire flickering.
There’s footsteps over the rocky beach, and Traveler watches as a man approaches from down the beach, his form visible in the flickering firelight.
“Nice evening isn’t it?” The man says, his voice is low and soothing. “Mind if I share your fire for a bit?”
Traveler inspects the man in front of him. They weren’t human, but the green tone of his skin and the finned ears that were hidden behind long curly hair hinted at perhaps telchin. The man carried nothing with him, no pack or bedroll. No lantern to shoo off the darkness of night.
“It ain’t much of a firelight, but you’re free to.” They say, the hint of a western accent tinging the words as they speak. “Nice night for existin’ in the world tonight ain’t it?”
The man nods, sitting on one of the beach rocks that Traveler had pulled up to the fire. “Beautiful night.” He smiles, “beautiful world.”
There’s a quiet between the two of them before the telchin speaks again, “They say the ocean was entirely still at one point.”
Traveler’s ear twitches and they look up at the man. “You know about that then?”
The man- the telchin- the storyteller smiles softly. “I know a quite many things. Would you like to hear them?”
They nod, watching as the storyteller’s smile grows wider and he begins to speak. He tells of the Ocean, a woman, a queen, a mother, fiercely loyal and protective of her family and people. He tells of the World and her lives lived over again. He tells of the loss of the sea and the control it took for it to move again, to build back to the fearsome force it had once been before its soul was ripped from it.
The Storyteller weaves the story of the universe together around them, his words carefully crafted as if just for this moment, this story. He tells of a child, born of science and fear, swimming away from the temple of their creation and finding the world outside. He tells of the child growing up to find love and family in a world so different from their crafted purpose.
He tells of a god, a king, a monster, who tried to pull life and death into his hands for power. He tells of the god’s child, lost in their grief over the death of their friend, plunging a trident through the god’s chest. Ridding the world from his reign. He tells of the god’s child being pulled away from their world and thrust into a universe so different from their own, forgotten for so long.
He tells of a pair of telchin, falling in love during the midst of war. And the loss that one feels when their partner is ripped violently away from them. He tells stories of grief and loss but also cheer and joy. The night grows late, then early, until finally the very beginnings of the sunrise bloom from the above the treeline.
With the early morning, the Storyteller smiles, rising from his seat as Traveler pulls back from their enraptured position they had held as they heard him spin his tales.
“It’s become early.” The Storyteller speaks apologetically, “I must continue on my way, before it becomes too late.” He looks down at Traveler, “I thank you for your night and your firelight.”
“I thank you for your stories.” Traveler chuckles, “do you mind tellin’ me if any of those were true?”
“They were long ago true.” The Storyteller says. “Much time has passed since then, but I’d like to think that they’re true still. Sometimes your story ends in happiness, and sometimes you don’t always get a happy ending, sometimes you just get life as it is.” He turns with a nod, walking back down the shore, before disappearing from sight all together.
Traveler smiles and sighs, collecting their bedroll and rucksack and dousing the fire before making their way back down the beach toward the treeline.