ONE, TWO, COUNTLESS PORTALS REVEALED DIVERSE LANDSCAPES AND INNUMERABLE FIGURES. SOME WORLDS WERE MAJESTIC AND VIBRANT, FILLED WITH TOWERING MOUNTAINS AND LUSH FORESTS. OTHERS WERE ENGULFED IN PERPETUAL WINTER, SHROUDED IN SNOW AND ICE. IN ONE WINDOW, BASTIAN GLIMPSED A LANDSCAPE STRIKINGLY SIMILAR TO HIS NORTHERN HOMELAND.
YET, BENEATH THE BEAUTY, THERE WAS SOMETHING UNSETTLING. AN EERIE STILLNESS PERVADED THE MAJESTIC SCENES, AS IF THEY WERE MERE ILLUSIONS.
ABOVE HIM WERE INFINITE STARS AND WORLDS; BELOW HIM, ENDLESS OCEANS AND RIVERS. THOUGH ALL WERE FORMS OF WATER, THEY INTERTWINED SEAMLESSLY, EACH FOLLOWING ITS OWN PATH WITHOUT DISTURBING THE OTHERS.
WITHIN THE FLOWING RIVERS, COUNTLESS SOULS OR FRAGMENTS OF SOULS, DRIFTED LIKE LUMINESCENT DROPLETS. OVER THEIR LONG JOURNEY, THESE SOULS HAD LOST THEIR ORIGINAL FORMS. BASTIAN REALIZED WITH AWE THAT HE STOOD IN THE LEGENDARY REALM OF REINCARNATION, A WAYSTATION FORGOTTEN BY THE LIVING.
"A RIVER OF SOULS? THE LEGENDARY STYX?" HE WHISPERED, HARDLY BELIEVING HIS OWN WORDS.
IN DRAGONBORN LORE, BASTIAN KNEW OF A MYTHIC RIVER THAT FLOWED THROUGH COUNTLESS WORLDS. NEVER DID HE IMAGINE WITNESSING IT FIRSTHAND. THE RIVER TEEMED WITH SOULS, SHIMMERING AS THEY MOVED, A LIVING TAPESTRY WOVEN FROM THE ESSENCE OF THE DEPARTED.
"IT'S A PITY I MAY NEVER SHARE THESE WONDERS WITH ANYONE," HE MUSED SOFTLY. "BUT PERHAPS I'M FORTUNATE TO SEE SUCH SIGHTS BEFORE I DIE."
A SENSE OF RESIGNATION WASHED OVER HIM. HE HAD LIKELY SURPASSED THE TIME LIMIT SET BY THE SHAMAN, AND EVEN IF HE WISHED TO RETURN, HE WAS LOST.
BUT AS HE TURNED AWAY FROM THE MESMERIZING VISTA, SOMETHING CAUGHT HIS EYE. HE FROZE.
"'THE FINAL CROSSING OF XERATHOS'? WHY IS THERE A SIGN HERE? ARE THERE PEOPLE IN THIS PLACE?" BASTIAN EXCLAIMED ALOUD.
A WEATHERED, WOODEN SIGN STOOD CROOKEDLY IN THE SAND, ETCHED WITH SYMBOLS HE DIDN'T FULLY RECOGNIZE. YET, INEXPLICABLY, HE UNDERSTOOD PART OF ITS MEANING.
A FLICKER OF FAMILIARITY STIRRED WITHIN HIM, AS IF SOME ANCIENT MYTH WHISPERED IN HIS EAR. BUT NO MATTER HOW HARD HE TRIED, THE DETAILS ELUDED HIM.
"PERHAPS EVEN MY DRAGON ANCESTORS NEVER VENTURED HERE," HE THOUGHT WITH A FAINT SMILE. "OUR LEGENDS MIGHT NOT COVER THIS PLACE."
BUT THEN, A SPARK IGNITED IN HIS CHEST, A REKINDLING OF HOPE AND DETERMINATION. IF THERE WERE SIGNS OF LIFE HERE, PERHAPS THERE WAS A WAY BACK.
"NO MATTER WHAT, I CAN'T GIVE UP NOW," BASTIAN RESOLVED, HIS EYES NARROWING WITH NEWFOUND PURPOSE. "IF OTHERS HAVE BEEN HERE, THEN SO CAN I FIND MY WAY HOME."
HE TOOK A DEEP BREATH, THE FATIGUE MOMENTARILY FORGOTTEN, AND STEPPED FORWARD INTO THE UNKNOWN.
"DING!"
THE SUDDEN RINGING OF A DISTANT BELL JOLTED BASTIAN FROM HIS THOUGHTS. A SURGE OF HOPE COURSED THROUGH HIM AS HE QUICKENED HIS PACE TOWARD THE CENTER OF THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND.
BEFORE LONG, HE ARRIVED AT A SMALL TOWN THAT SEEMED FROZEN IN TIME. THE STREETS WERE LINED WITH DILAPIDATED BUILDINGS, A BLACKSMITH'S SHOP WITH A SOOT-STAINED CHIMNEY, A FLOWER SHOP OVERRUN BY WILD VINES, AND EVEN A NOISY TAVERN THAT SPILLED WARM LIGHT ONTO THE COBBLESTONE ROAD.
WHAT AMAZED HIM EVEN MORE WERE THE COUNTLESS RESIDENTS BUSTLING ABOUT. ETHEREAL FIGURES, FLOATING LIKE WISPS OF SMOKE, WERE "BUSY" WITH THEIR OWN AFFAIRS. THEY BARTERED AT MARKET STALLS, CHATTED ANIMATEDLY, AND TENDED TO THEIR DAILY ROUTINES AS IF NOTHING WAS AMISS.
"EXCUSE ME!" BASTIAN CALLED OUT, STEPPING TOWARD A GROUP OF PHANTOM TOWNSFOLK.
BUT AS SOON AS HE APPROACHED, THEY VANISHED INTO THIN AIR, DISSOLVING LIKE MIST UNDER THE MORNING SUN. PUZZLED, HE REACHED OUT HIS HAND, ONLY TO GRASP EMPTY SPACE.
"THIS TOWN IS FORGOTTEN BY TIME," HE MURMURED TO HIMSELF. "EVERYONE IS PREOCCUPIED, OBLIVIOUS TO AN INTRUDER LIKE ME."
HE NOTICED THAT WHENEVER HE GOT CLOSE TO THESE SPIRITS, THEY WOULD DISSIPATE, ONLY TO REAPPEAR ONCE HE MOVED AWAY. IT WAS AS IF HE EXISTED ON A DIFFERENT PLANE, PARALLEL LINES EXTENDING INFINITELY WITHOUT EVER INTERSECTING.
"THESE CLOTHING STYLES ARE ALL WRONG," BASTIAN OBSERVED, HIS EYES SCANNING THE ATTIRE OF THE TOWNSFOLK. "AND THE ARCHITECTURE... ISN'T THIS FROM A THOUSAND YEARS AGO?"
HIS DRAGON HERITAGE HAD ENDOWED HIM WITH EXTENSIVE, ALBEIT SOMETIMES TEDIOUS, KNOWLEDGE OF VARIOUS CULTURES. HE RECOGNIZED THE ANCIENT DESIGNS OF THE BUILDINGS AND THE ARCHAIC GARMENTS THE SPIRITS WORE.
"IF IT WERE JUST RETRO FASHION, I'D UNDERSTAND," HE MUSED. "BUT SOME OF THESE STYLES ARE CONTEMPORARY, AND OTHERS... I CAN'T PLACE THEM AT ALL."
INDEED, AMONG THE CROWD, HE SPOTTED INDIVIDUALS WEARING ATTIRE THAT SEEMED FUTURISTIC, SLEEK FABRICS THAT SHIMMERED UNNATURALLY, AND DEVICES THAT GLOWED WITH UNKNOWN ENERGY.
"COULD THEY BE FROM ANOTHER WORLD?" HE WONDERED ALOUD, A CHILL RUNNING DOWN HIS SPINE.
EACH GHOSTLY FIGURE APPEARED TO HAIL FROM A DIFFERENT ERA, CIVILIZATION, OR EVEN REALITY. THE MOST COMMON BEINGS HE NOTICED WERE "HALF-ELVES," WHO BORE A RESEMBLANCE TO ELVES BUT WITH SUBTLE DIFFERENCES. THEIR POINTED EARS WERE MORE OVAL-SHAPED, AND THEIR FEATURES WERE RUGGEDLY HANDSOME COMPARED TO THE ETHEREAL BEAUTY OF PURE-BLOODED ELVES. MANY OF THE MEN SPORTED BEARDS, NOT AS EXTRAVAGANT AS THOSE OF DWARVES, BUT PROMINENT NONETHELESS.
"IS HE ALSO A HALF-BLOOD?" BASTIAN SPECULATED, EYEING A TALL FIGURE WITH THE PHYSIQUE OF A GIANT, THE GRACE OF AN ELF, AND THE BEARD OF A DWARF. "HE LOOKS LIKE A BLEND OF SEVERAL RACES."
MORE THAN HALF OF THE RESIDENTS WERE CREATURES HE HAD NEVER ENCOUNTERED ON HIS OWN CONTINENT. THERE WERE TOWERING BEINGS WITH EYES LIKE EMBERS, SMALL FOLK WITH WINGS FLUTTERING LIKE HUMMINGBIRDS, AND OTHERS WHO DEFIED ANY DESCRIPTION.
DETERMINED TO MAKE CONTACT, BASTIAN APPROACHED ONE OF THE HALF-ELVES. BUT JUST LIKE BEFORE, THE FIGURE DISSIPATED INTO MIST THE MOMENT HE DREW NEAR.
"WHAT IS THIS PLACE?" HE WHISPERED, FRUSTRATION CREEPING INTO HIS VOICE.
UNBEKNOWNST TO HIM, THE SIGN HE HAD PASSED EARLIER NOW REVEALED ITS TRUE FORM: "AN ISLAND BEYOND TIME, THE END OF ALL PATHS."
JUST AS BASTIAN WAS BEGINNING TO LOSE HOPE, A CACOPHONY OF SOUNDS CAUGHT HIS ATTENTION.
", BACK THEN... FOR THE PRINCE..." SNIPPETS OF CONVERSATION FLOATED TOWARD HIM.
HIS HEART LEAPED. SOMEONE WAS SPEAKING AUDIBLY! HE HADN'T BEEN ABLE TO HEAR ANY OF THE SPIRITS BEFORE, LET ALONE THEIR WORDS.
WITHOUT HESITATION, HE DASHED DOWN THE STREET, WEAVING THROUGH THE FOG-LIKE FIGURES. THE FRAGMENTED VOICES GREW LOUDER, MORE COHERENT.
HE ARRIVED AT A SHABBY TAVERN WITH A ROTTING WOODEN DOOR BARELY HANGING ON ITS HINGES. WARM LIGHT AND THE SCENT OF SPICED ALE SEEPED THROUGH THE CRACKS. THE NOISE WAS DEFINITELY COMING FROM INSIDE.
BASTIAN PUSHED THE DOOR OPEN AND STEPPED INTO THE LIVELY ESTABLISHMENT. THE TAVERN WAS A STARK CONTRAST TO THE SILENT STREETS OUTSIDE. IT WAS FILLED WITH PATRONS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES, THEIR FACES ANIMATED AS THEY ENGAGED IN HEARTY CONVERSATIONS.
AT THE BAR STOOD A RUGGED HALF-ELF WARRIOR, CLAD IN BATTERED LEATHER ARMOR ADORNED WITH UNFAMILIAR SYMBOLS. HIS FACE BORE NUMEROUS SCARS, AND A LONG SWORD WITH INTRICATE MAGICAL PATTERNS RESTED AT HIS SIDE.
"BACK THEN, THAT EVIL WIZARD-GIANT PROCLAIMED HIMSELF TO BE A DEMON LORD!" THE WARRIOR BOASTED, HIS VOICE CARRYING OVER THE DIN. "COULD I LET SUCH ARROGANCE STAND? ABSOLUTELY NOT! SO, I DREW MY ENCHANTED SWORD AND FACED HIM HEAD-ON!"
BASTIAN'S EYES WIDENED. THE WARRIOR'S TALES SOUNDED FANTASTICAL, YET THERE WAS AN UNDENIABLE AUTHENTICITY IN HIS VOICE.
ONE, TWO, COUNTLESS PORTALS REVEALED DIVERSE LANDSCAPES AND INNUMERABLE FIGURES. SOME WORLDS WERE MAJESTIC AND VIBRANT, FILLED WITH TOWERING MOUNTAINS AND LUSH FORESTS. OTHERS WERE ENGULFED IN PERPETUAL WINTER, SHROUDED IN SNOW AND ICE. IN ONE WINDOW, BASTIAN GLIMPSED A LANDSCAPE STRIKINGLY SIMILAR TO HIS NORTHERN HOMELAND.
YET, BENEATH THE BEAUTY, THERE WAS SOMETHING UNSETTLING. AN EERIE STILLNESS PERVADED THE MAJESTIC SCENES, AS IF THEY WERE MERE ILLUSIONS.
ABOVE HIM WERE INFINITE STARS AND WORLDS; BELOW HIM, ENDLESS OCEANS AND RIVERS. THOUGH ALL WERE FORMS OF WATER, THEY INTERTWINED SEAMLESSLY, EACH FOLLOWING ITS OWN PATH WITHOUT DISTURBING THE OTHERS.
WITHIN THE FLOWING RIVERS, COUNTLESS SOULS OR FRAGMENTS OF SOULS, DRIFTED LIKE LUMINESCENT DROPLETS. OVER THEIR LONG JOURNEY, THESE SOULS HAD LOST THEIR ORIGINAL FORMS. BASTIAN REALIZED WITH AWE THAT HE STOOD IN THE LEGENDARY REALM OF REINCARNATION, A WAYSTATION FORGOTTEN BY THE LIVING.
"A RIVER OF SOULS? THE LEGENDARY STYX?" HE WHISPERED, HARDLY BELIEVING HIS OWN WORDS.