Understand #AtoZChallenge 2025 fantasy

[Story scene post]

Dead bodies surround me. I touch the still-lit, but cracked, brown jewel at my suprasternal notch. After traveling to more places than I ever imagined existed, and finding no one else alive, I am finally on the Opal path. 

At least, I assume I am. There are no other paths left. And here, I have found more death than anywhere else. Jewels of every color. Well, not every. The Golds and Silvers didn't send any of their own to level five. Though, I'm not sure they can join the spirit realm. 

Opals. No light in any of their jewels. Their bodies are curled on the ground. I do not want to see what they are curled around. I do not want to look. 

But, there they are. The tiny forms of level ones, brought forth to the world only to die. The redesignation jewels, colors mixed, are all dark. 

I scream at the horror. I've screamed and I've cried. I've begged the world for help. There are no Reds left to help me, to let the spirits console or guide me. There is no one for me to lead. 

Stumbling over a body, my leg gets wedged into a crack in a rock. The rock has a large, twisted tree growing around it, the roots keeping the cracked rock together. Such a nice rock. If I had my pickaxe, I could turn this into a bench, maybe a table and a bench. Simple, better days, when I had a purpose. 

"Oww!" Something pokes my wedged leg. Another, harder poke, and I'm shoved from the crack. 

"You are not an Opal," a disembodied voice says. It's deeper than any cave, stronger than any rockslide, and more surrounding than any cave. 

"I am the last Brown. Who are you?"

"Darterra."

"That's the name of this world." I look around for the source. It seems to be from the crack in the rock.

"I am the celestial body orbiting Xeata-Lidoffad, the world you see in the sky. Once, I was smaller, and I lived there. There was an incident. I broke off and drifted away. I can never return, nor can I drift any further."

I nod, as if this is normal. Talking to the world. Maybe I need the Black to come give me medical attention. 

"Is the cracked rock your mouth? Do you usually speak?"

"What you call a cracked rock is the Birth Place. To you, a Brown, it looks like a rock. It looks different to every jewel group."

"I don't understand. Not really. Why are you talking to me?"

"You stepped in the Birth Place, Belp."

"How do you know my name?" I flop down on the ground and rub my leg.

"I made you. I made all that I allow to live on me. Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"The Silvers are from Xeata-Lidoffad."

"And the Golds?"

"No. Only the Silvers. But, having lived on me, they know nothing about their origin. It no longer matters. They have all gone home."

"Will they return?" I move to a crouched position. 

"It is possible, but unlikely. No more will come from the Birth Place. The only other portal is in the cavern in your mountain."

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Key dramatic question that will take whole story to answer:

Could Belp have prevented all this death, how, and if so-- why didn't he?

And what led Jaildarn to become the cause of such annihilation? 

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QUESTION-- What are your thoughts on the world becoming a character?

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My A to Z 2025 theme is a fantasy story. (And some of the process of writing it as well.) 🕮

- J (he/him 👨🏽 or 🧑🏽 they/them) ~ Speculative Fiction & Reference Author and Co-host of the April Blogging #AtoZchallenge

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