Chapter Text
It was an unspoken rule that every great fairy tale must begin with “Once Upon a Time.”
No one truly knows why, or how it came to be so. It was simply The Rule. “Once Upon a Time” was a deceptive little trickster of a phrase. It made you think that all fairy tales were relics of a bygone era, a reminder of a time when princes and princesses still roamed the land, when dragons and fiends plagued the sky, when magic pulsed beneath the soil of the world like blood coursing through veins beneath your skin.
“Once Upon a Time” made you think that the whimsical world of fairy tales no longer existed. Wrong.
Fairy tales weren’t old cautionary tales doomed to the yellowing pages of ancient, decrepit tomes. They happened all the time. In the past, the present, the future. It was just that everyone back then, right now, in the far future, is too preoccupied to notice the magic that happens in front of their eyes.
But no one wanted to read a story that began with “Once upon a time, actually right now, and will be in the future.”
So, in keeping with the tradition of all the great stories, our story shall begin with:
Once upon a time,
There existed an ancient land of lush green forests, filled with trees that brushed the heavens with their branches. Dragons streaked across the sky like daylight stars, a kaleidoscope of fire and fury as they flew over snow-capped mountains. Unicorns glistening like gems, racing through sun filled valleys, flowers of every color growing behind their treads. Humans living in harmony with every creature that ever graced the pages of a fairy tale.
It was beautiful, wasn’t it?
Beautiful, yes, but never quite peaceful.
The land had its fair share of turmoil. The River of Ranvier split the landscape in an angry scar, its water flooding the riverbeds, claiming lives like sacrifices beneath its rageful gray currents. Back in those days, in the Land Whose Name Had Been Lost to Time, one could travel to the river, and see an army of Tidetamers on the shore, their magic keeping the tumultuous water at bay as the chanting of spells rang endlessly into the air.
People often assume that magic is an infinite resource. This is a mistake.
Slowly, imperceptibly, magic drained from the land from overuse. Tidetamers first marveled at the weakness of their spells, then fled in terror when the river claimed its revenge upon the shores.
One side of the river, the one we now call Temporal, began to forsake magic as their shores flooded, sweeping away all the beautiful things that had been there before. All their magic was gone, useless as an ancient artifact. Instead, Temporal built dams to keep the river at bay, massive things of machinery and gears.
The part that was now known as Cerebellum was luckier, their magic remained. But it was a pale shadow of the power before, getting weaker and weaker everyday.
Eventually, the Land Whose Name Had Been Lost to Time fell, its golden age soon to be forgotten.
A historian might tell you about how devastating it was for the denizens of the kingdom, how turmoil descended for eons, and chaos curled tight around the land like a snake preparing its meal.
That was the sort of thing that a historian might tell you. The sort of things that would be useful to know.
But I’m not a historian, only a humble story-teller.
Tired of this exposition dump that exists solely to set up the world-building of our story yet? I know I am. Let’s hurry things along and get to our actual story that has already happened, is currently happening, hasn’t happened yet.
Once upon a time (right now, and will be in the future) in a land far, far away, there was a prince, a king, a mercenary, a servant, dragons, witches, but only one dragon-witch, magic, battles, love, heartbreak, triumphs, defeats, and that one inescapable villain. Death.
All stories must end, but this one is only beginning.