The First Time Traveler

“Once, a long time ago, the people of this world tried to put together its stories. They understood the importance of remembering the past, but so often the tales they told ended up exaggerated, blown out of proportion by time, or just a want to be dramatic. Some nowadays would say that’s the wrong way to go about things - why tell a story if you’re going to change the truth?”

     The words carried on the breeze, spoken by a very strange figure. He was furred, with a long russet mane, and vines wrapped around his limbs like snakes. He was staring up into the lonely night sky, seemingly pondering all that he was saying. Was this just some strange internal monologue, or was he talking to you?

     Suddenly, he laughs, a small, short sound, but one that broke through the silence all the same.

     “I always say, you can’t tell a story straight anyway after so much time has gone by. So why not make it interesting, at least? History, as it truly is, changes with the telling, shifts over the generations.

     “History leaves many things up to the teller, and it also has many sides. Many choose to regale the stories of only one side or the other. Tales get most interesting when you hear how every side perceives the past. Conflicts arise that you weren’t aware of. Different sides hold different truths. That’s why I talk to the trees, you know.”

     The creature smiles a lonely smile. “The trees were actually there. the trees know what happened. They’re the only ones around anymore that can really tell a story from first-hand experience. I ask them, too. I have more sides to my stories than any other teller.”

     He seems very proud at this, proud that his stories hold more detail than any other. He probably has every right to be - for though the tales of Silvarum have always had many authors, he is one of the best.

     “Silvarum is a complicated place. This land, this place we all live in, it’s filled with stories. The ones we all remember… and the ones all but the stones forget. They’re all important. it’s why i take the time to learn them.”

     And now he’s smiling again, he’s smiling at you and beckoning you to come closer. “Do you want to listen in? I’m telling some tales tonight. You’re welcome to listen in. I’m Petrichor. The first storyteller. Hopefully not the last. Gather round, gather round, pull up a log and prepare for a night of adventure. I can take you anywhere through my words, but only if you’re willing to hear them.”

“Ah, Petrichor! Captured another human in your ridiculous stories?”

     Another creature steps into the clearing where the two of you are - a cheetah who’s painted his spots a rainbow of colors. Goggles hang around his neck, as well as an old, hole-filled scarf. He strides towards the other with an amicable grin.

     “Jones… what do you want?” Petrichor asks with a barely noticeable frown. “As you can see, I’m very busy.”

     The cheetah shrugs and turns to you. “I’m here to help a good friend out. Everyone knows Petrichor. Who wouldn’t? he’s been everywhere, it seems he’s lived forever… but there’s one thing he could do better. One thing he could improve on. Luckily, it’s something I’m willing to do for him.”

     “Jones, not this nonsense again!” the storyteller exclaims. “You and your silly book!”

     “You bet it’s me and my silly book,” Jones responds, and he pulls out a beaten up, leather journal from a satchel around his waist. He flips it open and quickly shows you several of the pages. They’re filled with his tiny handwriting as well as the writings of others, the corners showered with doodles of knights and dragons, rulers and schemers, cities and countryside. He looks up at you, eyes filled with the wonder of a small child. “This is my life’s work.”

     petrichor’s gaze softens. “Jones…”

     “I’ve been writing down stories, collecting them here so that the future generations will be able to read them. It’s my goal to have the entire history of this world in here some day. That way, anyone can learn about what made us all who we are, without having to find a storyteller. Yes, people like you are still important, but you need to understand both sides. Isn’t that what you were just talking about?” The writer turns his gaze to his friend, silently pleading for him to listen.

     “…I know, I know. I’ve just not wanted your book to overshadow the wonders of a teller.” He’s shuffling his paws now, looking at the ground, anything to avoid catching the eye of either you or the cheetah opposite him.

     “It won’t. I promise. It’s just another option for people who can’t find someone like you. I… i came here tonight wondering if you’d be okay with me hearing your tales, with writing them down. you’re the best, after all…” Jones trails off, not knowing what else to say. It’s silent for a few moments, then a few moments more. Then, at last, Petrichor nods.

     “I understand. Maybe you’ll start up the next big thing, my friend. What tale would you like to hear?”

     “How about the very beginning? The earliest things we know about Silvarum?”

     “The further back we go, the more hidden the tale. But I’ll still try my best. Do you want to hear as well?”

     Both of them are looking at you now, both inviting you into this realm of wonder and excitement.  Jones has his pen out, ready to write down whatever is spoken, and Petrichor’s mind is already in the past as he starts to remember how it all went.

     That’s how this tale begins.

————

Back in the earliest memories of this world, the human race didn’t exist yet. Instead, the realm was ruled by animals of all shapes and sizes on one massive forested continent. The animals all lived in one group at the time, a massive community they called Silvarum. Things were fairly peaceful among these people for a great many years, until the Divide happened.

     A giraffe named Wander had been the acting leader of all those around, and his philosophy had been very much that strict laws were the best way to rule. He had a small council that helped him lead. One of these council members was not pleased with the way things were going, so he planned to break off from the others and start his own group. This person, a solemn blue goat by the name of Ragtime, slowly convinced people to join his side and kept it a secret from Wander, who admittedly had gotten a bit too used to his power and had started using it to do some pretty questionable things. But before Ragtime could split away, disaster struck.

     Wander had been chosen leader so long ago for his bravery and courage. He came to power at the beginning of civilization, and thus he was responsible for helping start up a good many great things. But as time had gone on, he had gotten slowly darker in his intentions. What had started off as a kind king who built huts, roads, and helped to plant gardens, turned into a creature who only cared about himself. It was just slow enough that no one really realized what was going on until it was almost too late.

     Some say a mysterious voice whispered things to Wander, whispered promises of riches and glory. Others say he acted of his own volition, however unlikely. Whatever the reason, one day Wander snapped. He went on a rampage, tried to kill the council and burned Silvarum’s biggest village to the ground. This would not be the last fire. This would not be the last time there would be rumors of this voice. Still, this first sin tore the land in ways that could never be repaired. Not just lives, not just relationships - the land itself was torn into a thousand smaller islands, and it was many months before the Silvarians would recover. It was like a massive earthquake, the kind no one had seen before and no one would ever see again. Water flowed into the deep chasms, but it couldn’t heal what had been broken. Wander had committed the first sin, and the world would never truly recover from it.

     In the aftermath, with fires still burning all around them, Ragtime - the only surviving council member - approached the now-disgraced ruler. It’s told that he walked right up to Wander and told him, “The sun has set on this world. I’m leaving. Good luck picking up the pieces.”

     Probably half of Silvarum left with him, and from then on the world was truly divided, in more ways than one.

     Ragtime’s group took the southern islands, and since he’d said the sun had set, they ended up naming themselves Starheart. Thus the second kingdom began.

     Those left behind rebuilt. It was a long process, one made more difficult by the absence of any true leadership. Wander had seen the error of his ways, and though he tried to be helpful it took a long time to regain the trust of his people. They decided to go by Sunglow - Silvarum wasn’t really their name any more - for they believed the sun would shine again on the future. They stayed on the largest island, around the middle of the world, and there they remade their home.

     The land to the far east, however, that was the interesting bit. When the land had split, the ground on the eastern islands had gone dry, and the shadows there grew darker. A small band of explorers decided to make this dangerous place a settlement. After all, no one else was brave enough to try. They went by Moonrise, for what’s more mysterious than the dark side of the moon?

Thus, the three kingdoms were made through conflict. It was not a good start. However, it was how the world began, and how things would have to be.

————

Humans entered the world far later, about five hundred years after the Divide. Not all of them could speak the same language as animals, but quite a few learned, and soon were able to act as translators between the two races. Most of the humans moved in with Sunglow, the largest kingdom, as it was the most technologically advanced at the time, but quite a few also joined Moonrise and Starheart. It was difficult to get used to at first - no one was used to these new people, but something happened that would change everyone’s mind on the humans.

     By this time the three original leaders had long since passed on, and while all remembered the Divide, there hadn’t been anything truly as bad since then. It had become fairly peaceful, until, of course, the almost war.

     Tensions had been running high between Sunglow and Starheart over borders. Starheart’s leader at the time felt like his kingdom had been cheated out of land - Sunglow had a vaster array of islands than the other two kingdoms. Sunglow’s leader stood by the argument that since Sunglow had the most people, it should have the most land. Moonrise tried to stand idly by, but the third kingdom was dragged in as well after the arguments only got larger.

     It led up to a massive conflict at the spot where all three kingdoms meet. What was meant to be a diplomatic mission turned into a rampage of accusations as each kingdom turned against the other two. All three sides had brought fighters with them, and a fight might have happened that night - almost definitely - if not for a human.

     She flung herself in the middle of the three groups, putting herself in danger to try and stop it all before it could begin. She pleaded with them all, begging them to stop - after all, what was the point of fighting over something as ridiculous, as small as borders? There were greater problems about, she said, problems that needed everyone to work together. Her bravery, in a way, brought everyone to their senses.

     That’s how everyone’s minds were changed on the land’s new inhabitants. They named the place of the battle Three Corners, and if you go back today, you’ll find a tree stump still there, marking the spot where one of the first humans stopped a war.

————

“Is there any real point you’re trying to make with this? I mean, where is this all going?”

Petrichor paused in his tale, appearing lost in thought for a time. “What do you mean?”

     Jones sighed, tail twitching in mild annoyance. “I mean why tell all these stories back to back if they don’t fit together? If they don’t have a point?”

     The storyteller stared out into the darkness, head tilted to one side, then replied, “In that case, what kind of tale do you want to hear?”

     “Something that has a meaning behind it. Something that’s connected. Do you get what I mean?” Jones was twirling his scarf around one claw, clearly bored with the tales told thus far.

     Petrichor nodded once, decidedly determined. “If you’re so desperate for a real, engaging history lesson… well, then I have just the story for you.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “If there’s anything that’s important to us all, it’s time travel. And I happen to know the story behind it all. You’ll want to write it down…”