A young woman sat on a fallen tree trunk, a crackling fire burning feet away as she shuffled through the contents of her small traveling pack. To the outside observer, it may have seemed like she was on a simple jaunt from one town to the next; surely someone on a longer trek would pack more heavily than a simple shoulder bag and the contents of her pockets. 

Yet that was not the case. This young woman, wrapped in a worn cloak with the hood pulled fast, was on a much longer trek. She was searching for something, but only time would tell if she would find it or if she would return home with naught but blisters on her feet.

Her name was Melody. Her mother told her that her name was chosen because of the sound of birdsong that greeted her upon her birth, but Melody suspected that the name was chosen more because her parents were not creative people, and because the name was common among residents of the towns surrounding her home. 

Time passed. The moon rose ever higher in the night as she stared into the golden-orange flame that shot sparks into the sky and protected her from the chill breeze whistling through the trees. Eventually, her reverie was broken by the sound of snapping branches and muffled curses. 

“Oh!” a voice cried from within the treeline. “It seems like that question has been answered at least.”

A figure stepped into the clearing. It paused for but a moment, then approached the campfire, much to her discomfort. She pulled back, her fingers drifting down to her belt and unfastening the knife she kept there. The figure didn’t seem to notice, instead stepping closer and into the circle of firelight.

By appearance and voice, it was a man. He stood maybe six feet tall, though his upright posture and the low angle from which she viewed him may have distorted that figure. He wore a plain cloak, tatty and sun-bleached, evident of long days spent walking under the sun. The hood of his cloak was down, revealing a sharp face that was both handsome and strange all at once. His hair was plain and cut short. The most notable feature, however, was the strip of cloth that wrapped around his head to cover his eyes like a blindfold.

When Melody noticed this, her spine instinctively straightened. Was this man with the church? If so, did he come to her with purpose? A thousand stories of the brutality of inquisitors swirled in her mind as the hand at her waist grasped the handle of her knife with a renewed vigor.

“What question, you ask?” the man said in a friendly tone as he approached. “Well, the question of where I’ll be warming these old bones tonight!” He laughed, lowering himself to the grassy ground, and began rubbing his hands together and warming them by the heat of the campfire.

 The young woman frowned at this. By his appearance, the man appeared no older than thirty. Old bones? She questioned internally. What does he want?

As if reading her mind–though never taking his blindfolded eyes away from the small blaze before him–the man spoke again. “I know you must be thinking ‘That man can’t be more than twenty, why would he call himself old? He’s far too handsome to be thinking he’s an old man!’ But I assure you, young lady, that I am far older than what this beautiful face might suggest.” 

Her frown deepened, her eyes studying the man for any clue about what it is he was after. Why would he approach her camp this far from the road? Why would an inquisitor be speaking this nonchalantly to someone they found this far into the forest? Why is he smiling like that? Why? Why?

Even worse, she couldn’t question him. If he truly was an inquisitor, even the slightest misstep could mean the end of her journey.

After another tense minute passed–at least for her–the man spoke again. 

“I was hoping that question would only lead to an answer, but it seems I've found more questions instead…”

There was a small silence that dragged out for the better part of a minute. To Melody, it seemed as though he was scrutinizing her through his blindfold. She felt a small tug against something incorporeal, then heard a pop in the air near her shoulder, but as she looked to see what had made the noise she was distracted by a stifled chuckle from the man across from her.

“Another question answered, I suppose,” he said after composing himself. “Still, that answer raises more questions. I want to ask, but I feel bad making you do all the answering.”

That finally got her to speak.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her hand drifting away from the knife. The man didn’t seem hostile, she decided. If he did decide to attack, she could always just take care of it anyway. 

“Well,” he said, “You’ve already answered two of my questions. That feels valuable, but I haven’t offered anything in return. I couldn’t possibly ask for more without offering something of my own.”

Seeing how seriously the man seemed to respond, Melody decided to play along. This interaction was starting to sound like a fairy tale to her, but something about the man–or rather something about that tug she had felt–told her that she should at least humor him.

“So what can you offer me?” 

The man grinned. He shuffled in his seat for a moment to get comfortable, then looked back to her thoughtfully.

“I can offer you a story,” he began. “Before you tell me to shove off, I can promise you that it’s a story you haven’t heard before. Have you ever heard about the Aspects?”

“Of course!” she replied reflexively. Anyone in the Holy Kingdom would know that title by heart and be able to recite the values they represented without batting an eye. Seeing as she was currently in a Holy Kingdom forest, albeit a mile or so from the road, she couldn’t afford to not know that name. 

The man studied her for a moment. Even though his eyes were covered, she felt his searching gaze. She felt another tug, then saw the man relax again.

“There’s a third answer. I really should get on with my payment. If I don’t hurry, I might never break even.”

She tensed, something inside her screaming that she was missing something. Still, the man was speaking again before she had time to pursue that line of thought. 

“You may have heard of the Aspects, but I doubt you’ve heard of how they came to be.” The man mumbled something to himself, of which only the word ‘she’ was audible in an unfriendly tone, then continued. “Before you argue, I am aware that the Founding Document gives a version of their origin. I’m sure you’ve read it, and I’m sure you got the wrong idea from it.”

She couldn’t help it as her breath caught. This man, for all the world appearing to be an inquisitor of the Holy Kingdom, was venturing dangerously close to blasphemy in his speech. Depending on the judge, even merely suggesting something was wrong with the Founding Document could lead to a dire sentence. Why would he risk such speech for someone that had done nothing aside from apparently answering three questions, despite the fact that she had answered exactly none of his questions and he had only verbalized one of them?

“What I should make clear up front is that this story will be slightly disjointed.” The man spoke with purpose, his previously joviality gone as if it had been a mere illusion. “I’ll make it clear up front who we are following, but it’s up to you to fill in the gaps.The five heroes of this story, if you can call them that, had a strange and winding journey to get where they are today. You know them as the Aspects, or as something else–” He coughed, his fist raised as if to cover the unnatural nature of the sound. 

When he finished, he looked up from his hand and favored her with a smile before continuing. His voice changed from that of a storyteller to that of a man intoning some great and terrible knowledge. 

“This is a story of Hope unrealizable and Love unwavering. It is a story of Questions unending and Answers uncaring. But above all, this is the story of Purpose unflinching. These five Aspects shaped our world into what it is today. While you may know them by other names, the names I have just given are the root of what drives them, or rather what drove them as they carried out the trials and miracles that you all seem so fond of.”

Seeming to search Melody's face despite the time-worn cloth covering his eyes, he gave one more small laugh as his lips quirked into a knowing smile.

“Yes, child. I expect you know these Aspects better than most. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve met two of them by now.

“Still, where do I begin this story? It is a story with as many beginnings as it has endings. A burning home? Runaway lovers? The birth of the fey? Of dragons? We could start with a fight amongst siblings, or a promise between brother and sister. The Conclave, Andrade, Leppa, and the Republic? What about the island nations and the lands beyond? 

Clapping his hands, the man removed a water skin from his pack and took a slow, methodical drink as his blindfolded face seemed to consider the stars. After a long moment, he replaced the item and regarded the young woman once more.

“No, this story starts with one specific moment. One decision, had it not been made, could have averted all of this. If that were the case, this world could look a whole lot different than it does today. Better? I’m not sure, considering the forces at play. Still, one decision was the catalyst for the creation of this world you now call home.”

The fire crackled and sent sparks twirling through the night as he began spinning a story he knew all too well.