Episode 50: Wrings The Wings: Part 9

It was as if the very air around Fheniz thickened with the weight of the unknown. The plateau, which had once stood as a natural barrier between the familiar world and whatever lay beyond, now seemed to beckon him into its mysterious depths. Every step he took down the uneven terrain resonated with a sense of purpose, driven by the gnawing emptiness within him. Fheniz was used to the monotony of life, but today was different. Today, the world as he knew it had been obliterated, and he was determined to escape the ruins left in its wake.

The descent down the opposite side of the plateau was treacherous. The rocks were loose and jagged, but he pressed on, his bare feet and hands scraping against the rough surface. Fheniz didn't care about the physical discomfort; his mind was a storm of thoughts, each one pushing him further away from the world above. As he maneuvered his way down, something caught his eye—a wide gap in the side of the plateau, an opening that seemed out of place in the rugged landscape.

The crack was vast, much larger than any fissure he had encountered before. The earthquake must have caused it, he reasoned, but there was something unnatural about it, something that stirred his curiosity. "Not like anyone's waiting for me at home," he muttered to himself, as he cautiously approached the opening.

The darkness within was inviting, a void that seemed to promise an escape from the chaos and despair that had consumed his life. With a deep breath, Fheniz stepped inside, letting the shadows envelop him. The temperature dropped noticeably, the cool air brushing against his skin like a whisper. It was pitch black, and his eyes struggled to adjust. He felt his way forward, his hands brushing against the cold stone walls as he navigated the unknown.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him gave way, and he found himself sliding uncontrollably down a steep incline. For what felt like an eternity, Fheniz tumbled through the darkness, his body buffeted by unseen forces until he finally hit the ground with a painful thud. "Oww!" he exclaimed, the sound echoing through the cavernous space.

He lay there for a moment, catching his breath. The darkness was comforting, soothing even, as if it was absorbing the pain in his body. But Fheniz knew he couldn't stay there forever. With a groan, he pushed himself up, wincing as he felt the bruises forming on his body. The silence was absolute, and for a moment, he simply sat there, letting the quiet wash over him.

After what felt like an eternity, Fheniz decided to explore the space he had stumbled into. He took a cautious step forward, and as he did, something underfoot clicked. A split second later, the entire chamber was flooded with light, revealing a sight that took his breath away.

Above him, suspended from the ceiling, was a massive chandelier, its 800 flames flickering to life in unison. The light it cast was warm and golden, chasing away the shadows and illuminating the grandeur of the space around him. Fheniz stood in awe, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight before him.

The chandelier was not just an ordinary fixture. It was a marvel of engineering, with intricate designs and mechanisms that hinted at a level of craftsmanship far beyond anything Fheniz had ever seen. The chandelier was connected to a series of wires and pulleys, each one carefully arranged to ensure that the flames lit up in perfect synchrony. It was clear that this was no accident; someone had gone to great lengths to set this up.

Fheniz looked down at the floor where he had stepped, noticing a faint outline of what appeared to be a switch embedded in the stone. The switch was connected to a series of wires that snaked their way up the walls and into the chandelier. Whoever had designed this had done so with precision and intent, but the question remained—who, and why?

As the light filled the chamber, Fheniz began to see the details of the room he was in. It was a vast hall, with high ceilings and walls covered in an ancient language that he could not decipher. The symbols were intricate and strange, their meanings lost to time, but there was something about them that felt important, as if they were telling a story that Fheniz was meant to understand.

Alongside the writing were detailed drawings, each one depicting hooded figures in various poses and activities. These figures were different from anything Fheniz had seen before, their features obscured by their cloaks, but their presence was undeniable. The drawings showed them standing before strange, glowing doors—gates, perhaps—that seemed to pulse with energy. In some images, the figures were stepping through these gates, disappearing into worlds beyond, while in others, they stood guard, protecting something unseen.

Fheniz's mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Was this some kind of ancient civilization? A secret society that had once thrived in the depths of the plateau? The more he looked, the more questions arose. Who were these people? Where did they come from? Were they even from Aeartha, or were they travelers from another world entirely? And what was their connection to this place, hidden away from the world above?

Hours passed as Fheniz wandered through the hall, his mind reeling with possibilities. The idea that this might be some elaborate hoax crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. The level of detail, the sheer scale of the chamber, and the ancient language—none of it pointed to a joke. This was something far more significant, something that had been hidden away for a reason.

Fheniz's thoughts turned to the possibility that there might be more to discover. If these drawings depicted gates to other worlds, then perhaps one of those gates was hidden here, in the plateau. The idea of leaving Aeartha, of escaping the cursed world that had taken so much from him, filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. He began to search the chamber more thoroughly, looking for any clues that might lead him to one of these gates.

He searched for what felt like hours, examining every inch of the chamber, but found nothing that resembled a gate. The walls were solid, and there were no hidden doors or secret passages that he could find. Disappointed but not defeated, Fheniz decided to explore the rest of the plateau. If there was a gate here, he would find it, no matter how long it took.

His search led him deeper into the plateau, through narrow passageways and winding tunnels. The air grew colder the further he went, and the darkness pressed in around him, but Fheniz was undeterred. To Fheniz, such things like 'gates to another world' were not believable (it's not believable for anyone, lol), but as his desire of getting out of his world was quite strong, he kept logic aside for a while in search of a miracle just like how he found this place, like a miracle at the right time. He didn't care about how the other world would be, he was just focused on getting out of this world. If the Origin existed, then these dimensional gates existed too, nothing was a mystery or a myth anymore.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, Fheniz came across a door at the end of a long, dark corridor. It was an ancient door, made of wood so old that it seemed to be on the verge of crumbling to dust. With a deep breath, Fheniz pushed it open, expecting it to creak and groan with age. But to his surprise, it swung open silently, as if it had been recently oiled and maintained.

The room beyond was filled with dust, the air thick with the scent of age and neglect. Fheniz coughed as he stepped inside, the dust swirling around him in a cloud. It was a library, filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves that stretched up to the ceiling. The books themselves were ancient, their covers cracked and faded, but they were clearly well cared for. Someone had been here not long before, but who?

Fheniz walked through the library, running his fingers along the spines of the books. Most of them were written in languages he couldn't understand, their titles and contents a mystery. But then, his eyes fell upon a book that stood out from the rest. It was thicker than the others, nearly twice the size, and its cover was adorned with symbols that seemed familiar.

With trembling hands, Fheniz pulled the book from the shelf and opened it. To his surprise, the second half of the book was written in the common tongue. While the first half was in a different, unreadable script. As he began to read, Fheniz realized that this was the journal of a traveler, a member of the ancient society that had once called this planet his home.

The traveler's words were a revelation, a window into a world that Fheniz had never imagined could exist. The journal spoke of a society known as the Schinong Azvoria, a group of travelers who had dedicated their lives to exploring the different dimensions or worlds that lay beyond Aeartha. These travelers used a series of gates, known as "Schinong," to journey between worlds, beginning from Aeartha and ending at a place called the Ninth World, or Nong.

Fheniz's heart raced as he read on, the words igniting a fire within him. The idea that Aeartha was just one of many worlds, connected by these mysterious gates, was both terrifying and exhilarating. He had always felt that there was something more out there, something beyond the confines of his world, and now he had proof.

The journal went on to explain that the common language spoken in Aeartha was actually the most ancient language 'of' existence, an omniversal tongue that was understood by all living beings, from gods to mortals.

Fheniz glanced around the library, his eyes taking in the vast collection of books. Are these all the journals of the Schinong Azvoria? The thought gave him chills. 

As he continued to read, Fheniz learned more about the Schinong Azvoria and their travels. The society had discovered that Aeartha was the first of the 'Nine Chosen Worlds', each connected by the Schinong Gates. The travelers had explored these worlds, each one more strange and wondrous than the last, but their journey always led them back to Aeartha, the starting point of their adventures, because after all they were Aearthalings. 

The Schinong Azvoria, despite their vast knowledge and experience, could not pinpoint the origins of the dimensional gates they traveled through. These gates, which allowed access to different worlds and dimensions, were believed to be ancient—possibly millions, billions, or even trillions of years old. The only way to truly understand them was to journey beyond, to explore what lay on the other side. These gates were present only on one planet from each segment of all existence. First planet to be present in a chosen galaxy, the second in the same universe, the third in another universe in the multiverse, the fourth in the greater multiverse, the fifth in the megaverse, the sixth in the hyperverse, the seventh in the omniverse, the eighth in the infinity and the ninth in the Origin segment. 

As they ventured through these gates, the Schinong Azvoria discovered a pattern: Aeartha, their home planet, was the first in a series of interconnected worlds, each with its own set of gates. These gates followed a specific order, with each world possessing more gates than the previous one.

Here was how it worked:

Aeartha (The First World): Aeartha, being the first planet in this sequence, had two gates. These gates allowed travelers to access another world, but only one specific world. Despite having two gates, they were collectively referred to as "One Schinong Gate" because both led to the same destination.

The Second World: The next world in the sequence had four gates. These gates were also collectively called "One Schinong Gate." Two of these gates allowed travelers to return to Aeartha, while the other two led forward to the third world in the sequence.

The Third World: This world had eight gates, doubling the number again. Four of these gates allowed travel back to the second world, while the other four led to the fourth world. Again, despite the multiple gates, they were referred to as a single Schinong Gate.

This pattern continued, with each subsequent world possessing twice as many gates as the one before:

The fourth world had 16 gates.

The fifth had 32.

The sixth had 64.

The seventh had 128.

The eighth had 256.

Nong (The Ninth World): The ninth and final world in this sequence was Nong, which had 512 gates. Half of these gates led back to the previous world, while the other half led to what was known as "The Dark World," also called the "Home Planet of Ozem Nurulis, Brighter Dark."

However, what lay beyond Nong, beyond those 256 gates of the other half, remained an unsolved mystery. The Dark World was feared, and no traveler who ventured there had ever returned. The Schinong Azvoria knew little about it, only that it was connected to a powerful and ominous force known as Brighter Dark.

The structure of these gates suggested that every world in this sequence was linked in a specific order, forming a chain that started at Aeartha and ended at Nong. 

But again, what lay beyond those 256 gates of Nong remained a mystery, only known as "The Dark World."

Fheniz's mind raced with questions. What was this Dark World? Why did it hold such power over the Schinong Azvoria? And what was the purpose of the 'Chosen Worlds'?

The journal also revealed a disturbing truth.

The Schinong Azvorians, as well as other secret societies from various worlds, were left with no choice but to abandon any further attempts to explore this terrifying place beyond Nong. The sheer fear of what could happen if they pursued this path drove them to retreat.

Upon their return to Aeartha, after the long and arduous journey through the various worlds, the Schinong Azvorians were met with a horrifying sight: Aeartha was no longer the world they had left behind. 

The travelers soon discovered the cause of a ruthless devastation: the Yahunyens, a group of people who worshipped the same powerful and dark force known as Brighter Dark, had taken control of Aeartha. The Yahunyens were not just ordinary invaders; they were followers of a malevolent power that had ties to the very Dark World the Schinong Azvorians had avoided. It was through this connection that they had gained the ability to invade and conquer Aeartha forever.

As the Schinong Azvorians delved deeper into the mystery, they uncovered a chilling truth: there was a direct 'Dark World Entry'—a dimensional gate that linked the very first world in the sequence, Aeartha, directly to The Dark World. This gate was ancient and had existed long before the Schinong Azvorians had begun their travels. Its existence was completely unknown, even to the most knowledgeable members of their society. The origins of this gate were always a secret, unknown to the inhabitants of Aeartha and even to the Schinong Azvorians. And it was too late.

This Dark World Entry was unlike the other gates that connected the worlds in a linear sequence. Instead of following the established order of the Schinong Gates, this gate served as a direct portal between Aeartha and Darkness, bypassing all other worlds in between. The gate was immensely powerful, capable of unleashing energies that could tear apart the very fabric of the world.

When this gate opened, the sheer force of its activation released a surge of energy so powerful that it caused the land of Aeartha to fracture and split. The once unified continent of Mackenas was shattered into pieces, and the One Royal Kingdom was obliterated. In the chaos that followed, the Yahunyens, empowered by their connection to Brighter Dark, seized the opportunity to invade. They used the devastation caused by the Dark World Entry to their advantage, establishing their rule over the broken world.

Further compounding the tragedy, the Gates to the planet of Ehayor, another significant or second world in the sequence, had been sealed by the Ehayor Gods. Through some ancient and mysterious spell, the gods had closed off all access to Ehayor, making it impossible for anyone to enter. This sealing of the gates left Aeartha isolated, as it was the first of the chosen planets in the sequence. There was no longer any escape route or alternate path for the inhabitants of Aeartha, trapping them in a world now under the control of the Yahunyens.

The Schinong Azvorians were left to ponder the why, how, and when of these events, but no clear answers emerged. They could only theorize that the activation of the Dark World Entry was the catalyst for the catastrophic events that had befallen Aeartha.

The journal hinted that this Dark World Entry had been opened by accident, possibly due to the actions of travelers who had gone beyond Nong and unknowingly triggered the gate. The consequences had been catastrophic, leading to the collapse of Aeartha's once-great civilization and the rise of the Yahunyens, who worshipped Brighter Dark. But another possibility was that it was always meant to happen with or without any accidents. Whether this was the result of the actions of the travelers who had ventured beyond Nong, a premeditated plan by Brighter Dark, or some other unknown force, remained a mystery. The only certainty was that the opening of the Dark World Entry had unleashed unimaginable destruction, paving the way for the Yahunyens' invasion and forever altering the fate of Aeartha.

Fheniz closed the thick, dusty book, his hands trembling slightly as the weight of the secrets within settled over him. He had never imagined that such a hidden history could exist, a narrative so vastly different from the one taught to the world. The story he had just read wasn't merely a tale of exploration; it was a revelation, a glimpse into a world that had been purposefully obscured, buried under the sands of time. The Schinong Azvorians, their journey through the chosen worlds, the mysterious and fearsome Dark World Entry—everything was a part of a grand, terrifying scheme that defied logic and challenged everything he thought he knew about the world.

His heart raced with a mix of emotions—shock, amazement, and a curiosity that burned hotter than ever before. How could such a significant part of history, such a monumental series of events, be completely absent from the world's knowledge? Who were the Schinong Azvorians, truly? And what had become of them after the devastating events that led to the fracturing of Aeartha and the rise of the Yahunyens?

As these questions swirled in his mind, Fheniz made a decision. This book's hidden knowledge was not completely read yet. It was still pending to read the detailed adventures in the other worlds, written by the traveler in the next chapters . It was more than just a record of the past—it was a key, a guide to understanding the forces that had shaped his world. He carefully tucked the book under his arm, feeling its weight against his side as if it were a tangible connection to the ancient society it described.

But as he prepared to leave, another thought struck him, freezing him in place. The door to this hidden library hadn't made a sound when he had opened it. It hadn't creaked like one would expect from a door that had been untouched for centuries. Instead, it had swung open smoothly, as if it had been recently maintained. And then there was the chandelier—a massive structure of 800 flames that had burst into light the moment he had stepped on that switch. The intricate wiring, the well-preserved mechanisms... all of it suggested that someone had been here, someone who knew about this secret, someone who had taken care to keep it hidden yet functional.

Fheniz's mind raced with possibilities. Who could it be? Was there another member of this ancient society still alive, keeping the secrets of the Schinong Azvorians safe? Or was it someone else entirely, a guardian of these mysteries who watched over them from the shadows? And then a more chilling thought crossed his mind: could this person be connected to the poisonous flowers that grew in such abundance around the plateau? Were the poisonous flowers planted there as a deterrent, a natural defense mechanism to keep prying eyes away from the secrets hidden within? 

As he pondered these questions, one face came to mind—Burohagikun. The old man had come to this very plateau to gather rubber grass for their shoemaking project. But was that all he had been doing? Had Burohagikun stumbled upon these secrets too? Or worse, had he known about them all along? Was it possible that the cheerful, eccentric man who had become like family to Fheniz was somehow connected to this ancient society?

Fheniz shook his head, unable to reconcile the idea of Burohagikun with the mysterious keeper of ancient secrets. The old man seemed so out of place in this context, so far removed from the shadowy world of the Schinong Azvorians. And yet, the doubts lingered. He couldn't dismiss the possibility entirely, not until he had more answers.

For now, there was nothing he could confirm. The mysteries of the plateau, the library, and the Schinong Azvorians would have to wait. But Fheniz knew that his life had just taken a dramatic turn. No longer was he simply a boy trying to survive in a world that seemed determined to crush him. Now, he was a seeker of truth, a bearer of a secret that could change everything. His goal, his purpose, had shifted. The desire to escape this cursed world, to find the Origin, had taken on a new dimension. It wasn't just about leaving anymore; it was about finding the Schinong Gates, proving their existence, and uncovering the full truth of the nine chosen worlds.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Fheniz began to make his way out of the vast, echoing hall. He moved cautiously, retracing his steps through the giant passages and corridors. The images on the walls, the ancient language he couldn't read, all seemed to watch him as he passed, like silent guardians of a forgotten past.

As he neared the exit, he stumbled upon what appeared to be a secret passage, cleverly hidden but noticeable to someone who was paying attention. It was a narrow corridor, partially concealed by the natural rock formations of the plateau. Fheniz hesitated for a moment, wondering if this passage had been used by the Schinong Azvorians themselves, or perhaps by the mysterious caretaker of this place. He decided to follow it, hoping it would lead him out safely.

The passage wound its way through the bowels of the plateau, twisting and turning in ways that made Fheniz question his sense of direction. But eventually, he saw a faint light ahead, a small crack in the rock where the passage ended. He squeezed through the opening and found himself outside, the fresh or not so fresh air filling his lungs as he emerged into the world once more.

Fheniz stood there for a moment, blinking in the moonlight, his mind still racing from everything he had discovered. He was amazed, confused, and thrilled all at once. His heart pounded with the realization that his life had just taken a new direction. He kept thinking again and again—to find the Schinong Gates, if they were real, and to know everything that lay beyond them.

He started his journey back to Venlores, the thick book clutched tightly in his arms, his mind filled with a thousand questions and an unshakable determination to find the answers.

His heart pounded with anticipation and a touch of fear. Fheniz was determined, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. Were the gates to the other worlds really there? If they were, would they still be accessible after so many ages? The book had mentioned the Ehayor Gods, who had sealed the gates to their world, making them impossible to enter. But Fheniz had no other choice. He couldn't stay here and simply accept the fate that had befallen his homeland. He had to go beyond, to see if the stories were true and discover any new possibility without giving up by reading mere words.

Fheniz swallowed his pride. He knew that if he were to cover the vast distances necessary to find the gate, he would need to make use of the fastest transportation available. As much as he despised the Yahunyens, he couldn't deny the practicality of their flying ships. These massive vessels, with their sleek designs and advanced technology, had been sent to Gerwanis to evacuate the surviving population, offering them refuge in other countries.

Fheniz boarded one of these ships, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the devastation his people had suffered. He settled into a seat by a window, watching as the shattered remnants of his homeland receded into the distance. The once-beautiful landscapes, now marred by toxic radiation and cracks in the earth, looked like a nightmare, a perfect reminder of the power the Yahunyens held.

As the ship soared above the clouds, Fheniz couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—anger at the Yahunyens, sorrow for the loss of his friends, and a burning desire to find the gates and leave this cursed world behind. The journey on the flying ship took him far from the remnants of Gerwanis, into lands he had never seen before.

For the next ten years, Fheniz traveled the world in a relentless pursuit of knowledge. He visited countless cities, from bustling metropolises filled with towering structures to remote villages nestled in the shadows of ancient mountains. He traversed colorful deserts that stretched endlessly, their sands shimmering under the scorching sun. He ventured into black forests where the trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching toward the sky. He even crossed black sands, the ground beneath his feet as dark as the night itself, and wandered through forests where the leaves were a riot of colors, each one more vibrant than the last.

Everywhere he went, Fheniz asked questions, sought out ancient texts, and listened to the stories of elders and scholars. He pieced together fragments of knowledge, hoping to find some clue that would lead him to the Schinong Gate. His journey took him to places where the veil between the worlds seemed thinner, where the air hummed with a strange energy, and where the landscape itself seemed to whisper secrets to those who would listen.

But despite his efforts, the gate eluded him. The years passed, and Fheniz began to wonder if the gate was nothing more than a myth, a story told to give hope to those who sought something beyond their world. Doubt crept in, but it never fully took hold. Fheniz refused to give up. He couldn't shake the feeling that his destiny lay beyond the confines of Aeartha, that he was meant to go beyond and discover the truths hidden in the stars.

Then, one fateful day, after a decade of searching, Fheniz found himself in a dense forest. The trees towered above him, their canopies so thick that the sunlight barely filtered through. The air was cool and damp, and the forest floor was covered in a thick layer of moss that muffled his footsteps. Fheniz had been following a trail of rumors and vague directions that had led him deeper into the forest than he had ever ventured before.

As he pushed through the undergrowth, he noticed a faint glow ahead. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickened his pace. The glow grew brighter as he approached, and soon he found himself standing before the entrance to a cave. The mouth of the cave was wide, almost unnaturally so, as if the earth itself had split open to reveal it. The glow emanated from within, casting an eerie light on the surrounding trees.

Fheniz hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. Could this be it? Could this be the gate he had been searching for all these years? He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever there was having no idea, was any gate open? if yes, then why?

With that, Fheniz stepped into the cave. The air grew colder as he descended, the light from the entrance fading until he was enveloped in darkness. But Fheniz pressed on, his steps sure, his heart pounding with excitement. He could feel it—he was close.

Finally, after what felt like a never-ending journey, Fheniz reached the end of the cave. There, on the wall before him, was the source of the glow—a shimmering veil, pulsating with a soft, otherworldly light. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, a doorway to another realm, a gateway to Planet Ehayor.

Fheniz stood before the veil, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't know why the gate was open, why it had chosen to reveal itself to him, but he didn't care. This was his chance, his opportunity to leave Aeartha behind and discover what lay beyond. He could feel the pull of the gate, as if it were calling to him, urging him to step through and embrace his destiny.

With one final deep breath, Fheniz reached out and touched the veil. The moment his fingers made contact, he felt a rush of energy surge through him, filling him with a sense of power and purpose. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

Without a second thought, Fheniz stepped through the veil and into the unknown saying, "It's time for me to go beyond! 'Cause I am Wrings the Wings damn yeah!!!" 

END OF PART 1.

Pronunciations:

Azvoria: [EZVO]+[REE-AH]