THE REALM GEMS
by Eruden Ki
Rated G
Deep in a place where time stands still, yet day still melts into night, there lived a being. This being was not human, nor was it immortal. She was just there. Her skin was as white as ivory, and as flawless as the sky. Bright with hundreds of years of intelligence, her amythest eyes betrayed how young she seemed. Her name was Neita, and she was the protector of realms.
In her possession were three gems. One was shaped like a star, and it gleamed as if it was taken from the heavens itself. It glittered with the innocence of a child, and swam in golden light. This was the realm of angels; pure, heavenly beings. The next was shaped like a diamond that had been forged from the depths of the Earth. A midnight black aura consumed this crimson red diamond. The realm of demons rested inside this red gem. The last gem was shaped like a pyramid. It was brightly radiating with white light, as a mottled
rainbow danced across the smooth surface of this gem. In this gem lived the realm of mortals.
Neita kept the three gems close to her heart, which was said to be more pure and fifty times more valuable than gold itself. As Neita slept, for all things must sleep, she would gently place her gems in a little black box for safe keeping.
This box was made of a dark wood from a tree that grew in a
dimension all it's own. Etched into the lid of its glossy exterior was a scene of centaurs galloping about in a field of black roses, that glimmered in the light of a large, orange colored moon. Above the centaurs a white dragon circled, its scales made of little pieces of opal to give its shimmering scales a realistic appearence. On the sides of the box, carved into neat, sleek grooves, little faeries and pixies danced. Their wings were made of priceless gems that had an inner fire to give off a soft, mellow light which brightened the lavender faces of the small pixies.
Inside, the gems would rest on a cushion as soft as light and as dark as the ocean on a stormy, dire night. All three gems would glow innocently as they were nestled together on that cushion, as if they were baby birds cuddling together for warmth on a bitterly cold, winter night.
All things in Neita's world were not heavenly though. Seref, a weasel with a heart as pure as lead and a temper of a volcano, was one such being. He would watch the beautiful protector with malice-filled, dark, beady eyes, as he hungrilly waited for a time which Neita would leave the gems, just for a second, so he may snatch them. This greedy little creature was jealous of Neita's privilege; jealous that she got to protect those valuable gems. Hatred for the beautiful Neita ate as his heart, as jealousy
prickled through his veins everytime he watched the protector.
Tired of waiting, the weasel decided to steal the gems, while the protector slumbered. One such time, while Neita slept, he snuck into her home and attempted to steal the gems. But alas, he was too weak to hoist the massive box in which the gems sat. So, with his swift thieving skills, he stole the gems from the box and scuttled out of Neita's home, clutching the gems with his grubby, grimy paws.
Soon, Neita awoke, startled and depaired to see the gems missing, and the box lid ajar. Being the protector of the realm gems, and having failed, she knew she would soon perish. Neita knew it was far too late to track down the thief, since she could feel the cold hands of death start to grip at her soul. As the agony of her death started to seep into her body, it didn't compare to her feelings of guilt from failing. Failing her duty, failing her responsibility, failing the beings inside the gems she protected. She left a curse and a vow upon her soft pink lips out of this agonizing guilt.
Her vow was to return, reincarnated, to someday find the realms and keep them at peace again. The curse was that as long as the realms were away from her loving heart, havoc and anguish would take over the realms and the beings in the realms. She left this curse so when she returned to silence the raging havoc in the realms, they would realize how beautiful and fragile peace actually was was.
As soon as Neita uttered her last breath, the curse flew from her lips on the wings of her vow to the realm gems being cradled in the weasel's arms. All three gems began to melt together. Angels meeting demons, demons meetng mortals, mortals meeting angels; all the realms met for the first time. A bright light enveloped the three gems as they combined into one. Red sparks flew, catching Seref's fur on fire. The white light blinded the bitter beast's eyes. And the black aura poisoned the weasel's ears, causing him to go deaf.
Screaming in anguish and terror, Seref dropped the melting gems and sped away in fear. As the powerful gems melded together, radiating waves of power surged from them. Black, blue, and white light exploded out of the gems all at once, dancing and spiralling through the air. Small white dust hung around the gem, sparkling like snow frozen against the black aura that the spherical gem emitted.
Swirling and dipping, colors spiraled all across the sphere gem. Gold, silver and bronze dodged each other, swirled around each other, and melted together to create an ethereal color unknown to mortals, demons or angels. The enigmatic gem floated, as if it was a leaf frozen in time on an invisible wind. Millenias flew by this gem in a nanosecond, like a bird passing by an insignifcant blade of grass.
Centuries swarmed past this gem, the realm gem, the Realm of All. Blood was spilled, supposed peace was made just to be tattered apart again by havoc and destruction. In this place, where time stands still, but day melts into night, our realm floats alone. A lonely little gem, without it's protector, as vunerable as a shell-less turtle. But, one day, their protector will return and restore the fragile peace that had once draped around the beings before they were merged.
Maybe it will be in the next decade, or the next month, or even the next day when the protector will find them. Then everyone will be at peace once again, forgetting the catastrophe that had come before them. Until then, we can only let our dreams of peace fly on the wings of Neita's vow, and hope that that vow will never be shot down.
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