Obsidian

Many millennia ago, during the battle between the water and the air, a river was formed. The river was not significant in any way, simply a byproduct of the turmoil around it. Despite this, the river relished in its new existence, flowing in a channel within a large landmass.

Eventually, the conflict that formed the river ended, and all went still for a while. The river did not care. It continued to do what it did best and flowed on.

Many years later, something happened. Strange creatures began to gather near the river. They built shelters for themselves next to it. They took some of the river’s water, using it to sustain themselves. The river was confused and slightly irritated at first, but that soon turned to curiosity. It watched as the creatures took some of the stones it had spent years wearing down and created tools with them. It watched as the beings formed a civilization.

It coexisted with the beings for many years, many of their generations.

This was not to last.

Something began to happen to the beings. They grew frail, unable to carry as much as before. The river had seen them grow old and die before, but the younger ones were afflicted as well. The river could do nothing as the beings grew sicker and sicker, as illness spread through the population. It could do nothing for them but be there as they died.

As everything went quiet again, the river could do nothing but continue to flow.

The buildings belonging to the civilization began to crumble. Some plants began to grow in the area that was once inhabited, wildlife retaking the area. The river continued to flow.

It would be a long time before intelligent life arrived again.

New beings began to investigate the area near the river. They were different from the ones that used to live near the river, having been created by similar magic to the one that created the river so very long ago. These new beings looked around the deteriorated remains of the river’s civilization. The river did not know what they were doing at first, but after observing them for a while, it realized something.

These new beings were trying to learn about the river’s civilization. They were trying to preserve its history, to ensure the people there would be remembered.

The river wanted others to know about its civilization very badly.

But the beings were looking in all the wrong places. They hadn’t been there; they didn’t know where to look. The river wanted to show them where to look, but how?

Then it got an idea.

If these new beings could use the magic that had created them, why couldn’t it?

It took a piece of itself, some of the water that comprised it, and formed it into a similar shape as the new beings. Its first few attempts were failures, but eventually, it could keep the fragment stable for a few hours.

It used the fragment to lead the beings – which it now knew called themselves dragons – to important places. The dragons were hesitant to follow at first – it still could not verbally communicate its intentions – but eventually did. The river then returned the piece to the rest of itself until it had enough energy to separate itself once more.

The river knew that one day, the new beings would die too, and it would be alone once more. But if those who had once used it to sustain themselves were remembered by others, then maybe it would finally feel less grief.

And so, the river continued to flow.

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Art

By Dreadnoughtus

CyanicOcean