Tommyinnit Oneshots

Between the gods and the abyss - To Choose Your Own Grave

The walls are huge. They reach all the way towards the sky, the very top being lost in the thick of the puffy white clouds. The walls are made from a smooth, black metal that seems to absorb any light cast upon it. There is one entrance, a pair of golden gates that glow no matter the weather. The gates are made from bars, allowing anyone who passes by to see what lies beyond the wall. The inside is a path paved in white stones lightly dusted with silver sparkles. Giant houses, more like mansions, line the road with their own yards and fences to mark territories. The path seems to end at a giant tree that sits in the dead center of the enclosement. Right above the tree is a floating island with a waterfall and a rickety rope hanging off of it. There are usually people visibly walking around. They go from house to house, or they head towards the floating island in the middle. Sometimes, someone leaves the gates with a large smile on their face and a hand raised to wave. Rarely will you see someone go into the place, but rarely does not mean never.

Tommy stands at the large gates of Origins. There is no one outside the houses, probably because it's nearing the middle of the night. The reason he isn't being responsible and sleeping during the night is because he hasn't been able to sleep well for the past few weeks. Ever since an encircled question mark appeared on his hand overnight, he hasn't been able to do anything but move towards Origins. He couldn't sleep or eat unless he was practically on the verge of collapse, and even then, the burning sensation in his head wouldn't leave him. Every fiber of his being wanted to be at Origins. Every fiber except his brain.

Tommy was perfectly content to live out the rest of his days in a village. While the people weren't exactly welcoming, they weren't cruel to him. He had a little garden that supplied him with his food and multiple pets that would keep him company. He didn't need some fancy title, and he definitely didn't need a relocation. He had been able to ignore the mark on his hand and every painful sensation that came with it for over a week, but he was only mortal. His endurance and strength had limits. His brain was smart enough to realize his options were Origins or death. He had come too far to let death take him now.

Tommy wonders what he's supposed to do now. He made it to Origins. The feeling in his chest had waned enough for him to think coherently once more. There was an instinct in his chest to continue marching, to find the house in Origins that belonged to him. He did not follow that instinct. It was easily ignorable. He didn't want to be in there, and he was known as a stubborn person for a reason.

Tommy turned away from the golden gates. He marched back into the forest. With each step, something tightened in his chest like a pulled rubber band. He settled in a tree that was close enough for him to still be able to see the walls without being able to see the golden gates. He was close enough that the pain in his chest wasn't unbearable. He put his backpack in his lap, looking down at the symbol on his hand.

The world was filled with a lot of threats. There was constant fighting between different species, the ever present threat of evil gods, and terrifying monsters born from the abyss. For the sake of the world, some gods formed a pantheon. Together, the pantheon took on the responsibility of fighting against the evil gods that prayed for the world's destruction. This left two more problems: mortal wars and the abyssal monsters. The pantheon came up with another solution for both. They created a place imbued with so much divine energy that no evil god could get within hundred miles of it. They protected this place with heavy magic and technology. This place was called Origins for it was the first home of the Chosen.

The Chosen were known as the children of the gods. They were sentient creatures with something so uniquely special about them that they were noticed by the gods. The pantheon would decide which house the Chosen fell into, and that person would then be claimed. The Chosen were given the responsibility of maintaining peace and fighting abyssal monsters by borrowing some of their patron god's power. They were allowed to rest and train at Origins until they were given a mission by the gods to accomplish.