A Myth from the Empire of Jin

It was a tale told by those in the Empire of Jin, his father once said. The names of the FOUNDERS featured in it were different, but from their iconography, they indeed referred to the same beings, the same MAHANIR that the peoples of the Republics venerated. Elwin wasn't sure if he could pronounce their names in the language of Jin – if he failed, the tale would sound like a lie. Perhaps he could just use the names of the FOUNDERS he knew.

"This is a story once told by my father, Carl Eramir in name. Although it is just one myth told by humanity, I believe you could come to an understanding of how we think."

Hûnbaba cocked its head, exhaling a whiff of steam from its burning nostrils.

"PROCEED."

And so, Elwin began, closing his eyes to feel the weaves of the words, spun again from the memories of old.

"Long ago, in the depths of the ocean, there lived two wyrms, one red, and one blue-scaled.

For a thousand years they swam the currents, making merry with fellow creatures of the water. But before long, they became fatigued by boredom, for they had run out of places to explore.

Peeping their heads above the water, they spied wondrous beings of the sky who could soar in the winds as if all the world was their dominion. The two wyrms, envious of the freedom of birds, dearly wished to grow their own wings.

And one day, an envoy from the celestial palace arrived to the sea, asking for anyone who sought to have their wishes heard by the FOUNDERS.

The two wyrms gleefully accepted the offer, and arrived at the palace by riding the chariot of SUNNA.

They were greeted warmly by the divinities, who declared a banquet was to commence soon in celebration of the Empress of Time. They decreed that anyone who could conjure or create a circular dish hitherto unseen, in honor of her wheel, would have their wishes granted.

Alas, the two wyrms looked upon the kitchen of the palace and were dismayed to see that nearly every dish had already been made. For all manners of foods round and circular, they found peaches, tangerines, apples, dates, nuts, eggs, table-pies, and cakes, piled to the cloudy roofs in an immeasurable number of plates. 

Disappointed that they would have to fulfill an impossible task, they asked to be returned to the ocean. But on the way, seeing humankind wage war against the earth and sea, the red wyrm suddenly had an idea. What better way to bring peace to the world, and get his wings?

He leapt out of the chariot into the water, and boasting his prowess the red wyrm severed a hundred heads of traveling bandits, roasting their spherical skull and flesh with salt and spices to present as a new dish to heaven, a dish that was round.

The blue wyrm, kind in nature, lamented that humans should be sacrificed to make a dish like his friend's, and so refused such a path. But during his despair the blue wyrm had a wondrous vision: he could cook a dish similar to his friend's, but which did not require sacrifice of sentient beings.

The blue wyrm snuck into a village floating above the sea, and asked for grain and greens. The frightened denizens refused at first, pelting him with stones, but when he promised to give them his blessings if he was to fly, they offered their hands.

With grain he ground into flour, and made dough round in shape. Into the round doughs the wyrm placed greens, and by wrapping them into a spherical bun he baked them, thereby creating a new dish without any sacrifice.

However, the people of the sea said the dish was without savor, and would require another ingredient. Seeing no other choice, the blue wyrm cut off the end of his own tail as meat, and from the sacrifice of his own flesh made the recipe anew. The people spake it wondrous; and so happy but with the end of his tail absent, the blue wyrm also climbed to the celestial palace by way of SUNNA's chariot.

In the purview of the five FOUNDERS, the red-wyrm revealed his dish. Seeing the heads of humans who were once their kin, the MAHANIR became horrified by the doing of the red wyrm. They refused to eat and dine on such a dish, despite the reason for its existence. The red-wyrm was adamant and confused: surely he did the right thing by ridding the world of evil beings, human or not!

But before the gates to the banquet slammed shut, the blue-wyrm came racing through, and hurriedly presented his dish. Tasting it and hearing the story of its selfless creation, the lingering expressions of horror and disgust from the FOUNDERS turned into that of delight and respect. They lauded praise onto the blue wyrm, declaring for all the sky to hear that for his noble ingenuity and consideration towards humankind, he would receive any reward upon his heart.

Seeing that the blue wyrm had stolen his idea but was lauded with praise, the red wyrm became incensed. In his rage he rampaged across the celestial palace, destroying the banquet tables and the dishes that had been prepared, clawing the pillars and the gates, injuring many of the creatures of the world that had been invited like him, stopped only at last by the MAHANIR themselves.

As punishment for his rampage across heaven, the FOUNDERS took the red wyrm's legs away, forever condemning it to crawl on the ground in search of sustenance. Transformed for the worse, he could no longer tread the sea without great effort, and thus became the first SERPENT.

The blue wyrm, however, was rewarded with his wish. From his body sprouted feathered wings, gaining the ability to soar, and on his legs he grew an extra toe, so he could help carry the scrolls containing heaven's decrees. The blue wyrm thus became the first DRAGON.

The FOUNDER MANASURA, who loved humankind the most out of all, offered the dragon to be his envoy to the peoples of the world, and for his acceptance, gave him the power over the waters, the rains, the seas. The Dragon returned to the village that helped him, and brought with him all the blessings of heaven so they could be fruitful and multiply.

To this day, they say, the people of Jin honor the rise of the first Dragon with their dish, eaten at the cusp of the new year: Shaolongbao, or 'Little Dragon Buns.'"

When Elwin's story had ended, great Hûnbaba did not move nor make a sound for what seemed like forever.

And then it roared into sinuous guffaws, rocking the earth and the air.

"WHAT DIVINE IRONY IT IS, THAT I WOULD HEAR THE STORY OF THE SERPENT AND THE DRAGON THIS MOMENT!"

"FOR A MILLION CYCLES I HAVE EXISTED, WAITING FOR THE CONJUNCTION OF THE WEAVES, EXPECTING A GRAND EVENT TO ACCOMPANY WHAT WAS FOREWRITTEN."

"BUT WHO DO I FIND IN FRONT OF ME? TWO LONELY FIGURES, NO HEROES AS OF YET, FRIGHTENED TO THEIR WITS, VOICES BUT A MERE CHIRP."

Elwin and Mirai did not know whether to grimace or smile. They held on, lips pursed for the judgment of the spirit.

Hûnbaba raised a single paw and pointed two claws at them both.

And instantly, it was as if the familiar world they'd once known had disappeared around them, the earth pulled from under their feet, and all was darkness, forever darkness.

In that empty limbo, Hûnbaba's words flooded into their consciousness like waves breaking a dam, as truth respects no levee. The language spoken was not theirs – not that of contemporary Mythrisian, nor the classical tongue of Heian – instead, the meaning of the words unraveled in their subconscious like speech spoken in a dream, a speech whose words people understood regardless of origin.

Hûnbaba's utterance came in guttural growls:

BEHOLD THESE WORDS THUS,

THE SPEAKER AND THEIR FRIEND,

KNOW YOUR FATES ARE ONE,

ONE WITH THOSE THAT DESCENDED UPON THIS CITY.

OUT OF THE MANY BELOW THE EARTH,

ONE OF YOU SHALL FALL,

FALL AS THE SERPENT,

AND ONE OF YOU SHALL RISE,

RISE AS THE DRAGON.

ON THE EVE OF THE END,

UPON THE END OF THIS ERA,

YOUR STRUGGLE SHALL CARVE TIME ANEW

UPON PILLARS OF ETERNITY.

Elwin and Mirai thought of these as a poem, a riddle, a tale at first, but as the words echoed like truth once, twice, then thrice to more, illuminating the dim twilight of comprehension, dread began to squeeze their hearts.

Hûnbaba was declaring that out of the sixteen that entered – their fellow comrades-in-arms – one was destined to fall like the serpent, and one was destined to rise like the dragon of the tale; a tale Elwin so innocuously told without understanding the full meaning of enunciation. What sank their hearts even more so was that they were doomed to fight each other in a struggle, a struggle whose ends no one could yet see. Who would survive? Who would perish? What tragedy of tragedies is it to have a fate ordained to you, that you must fight your friend?

As soon as this spark of understanding had struck them both, each witnessed a nightmare unfolding within their minds: for Elwin, it was that he would become the serpent, consumed by his hatred of Lucian, ultimately failing to escape his past; for Mirai, that she would become the serpent, consumed by the fires of revenge against those who framed her family, ultimately failing to escape her past. A tragedy would come to pass – that to defend the earth, their friends Isaac and Katherine would have to battle them.

There was a singular label, nothing more, nothing less, that described the nature of the words being spoken. Never before had Elwin expected a term from myth, of old children's tales, to be relevant for him and the future he and his friends now were doomed to share:

Prophecy.