Avaris: World Of Stories

The unraveling began subtly. At first, the changes were nearly imperceptible—a flicker in the air, a momentary distortion. Then, tiny symbols drifted up like dust caught in the light. People stared in confusion as these strange markings—letters—floated gently into the sky, absorbed into the luminous pages of the colossal book above. The realization was slow, creeping like a predator in the dark.

It wasn't until objects began breaking apart that the panic set in. Buildings dissolved into their fundamental descriptions. Walls peeled away into lines of text—"brick," "steel," "glass"—each word forming and floating skyward in the language of the observer. Water broke into "water," stone into "stone," air into "air." People gawked in disbelief as they saw the very fabric of their existence turn to words.

Then, some of the more observant among them noticed something truly terrifying: the letters that formed the words were also made up of smaller letters, recursively spelling their own meaning in an infinite regress of language. "Water" broke into smaller words like "oxygen" and "hydrogen", and "stone" broke into tiny words of "minerals".

It was as if reality itself had never been anything more than a collection of words and letters waiting to be undone.

Screams filled the air as humanity finally understood. They had been nothing more than a tale in the pages of something greater. And now they were being unraveled.

People ran in every direction, clawing at their homes, their belongings, as if their desperate touch could somehow hold the words together. A woman shrieked as her house disintegrated, the letters spelling "home" before fragmenting further into materials. A child sobbed, grasping at his dog as the creature shuddered, its fur becoming ink, then mere text before vanishing entirely. The boy collapsed in horror, screaming as his pet's name was erased from existence.

Then came the humans.

Mothers clutched their children, shielding them from a fate they couldn't stop. But the universe had no mercy. Little bodies unraveled, syllable by syllable, while parents watched helplessly, their own fingers starting to fray into sentences. Lovers grasped at each other as their names blurred into meaningless script. Children wailed as they witnessed their siblings become nothing more than words in the wind.

Their flesh, their bones, their very essence unspooled into phrases—"skin," "muscle," "blood"—each term peeled away until nothing remained but emptiness where they had stood. One by one, the people of Earth and all over were unwritten out of existence.

Amidst the chaos, Xavier stood still.

He watched the fire before him dissolve, its flames breaking into the very letters that defined it. "F-I-R-E" hovered in the air before it was absorbed into the sky-bound tome. The walls around him peeled away like paper, leaving only words drifting into nothingness. Even the gang members below, who had tried to flee, were now nothing more than desperate cries lost in a sea of disappearing text.

Yet Xavier was not afraid.

He felt strangely at peace, an odd serenity amidst the apocalypse. He had no reason to run. He had no home, no family, no real future to lose. When the entity had first spoken, declaring humanity pathetic, he had felt like he was supposed to be angry. But now, standing amidst the unraveling world, he wasn't sure what to feel anymore. He watched with detached curiosity as his fingers disintegrated before his eyes, the letters forming his flesh swirling away like embers in the wind.

Within those words, he could swear he saw the word 'useless' in there.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"Heh… Figures."

His body continued to dissolve, letters spelling out his name, his existence, vanishing into the great unknown. His vision darkened. He felt himself slip, yet he was not afraid.

To him, it didn't matter.

And then—

Nothing.

Or perhaps, something beyond nothing.

Xavier drifted in a state of paradox. He existed and did not. He was written and erased. His thoughts felt hollow yet full. He should not have been able to see, yet he could. He should not have been able to hear, yet sound reached him. He should not have been able to feel, yet sensations tingled at his consciousness.

It was an indescribable sensation—he existed, yet he didn't. He felt, yet he was numb. He saw, yet he had no eyes to perceive. The vastness of his unraveling form stretched into infinity, and for the first time, he felt untethered from the burden of his own existence.

Was this death? Or was it merely the next page of his story?

And if it was… who was holding the pen?

Xavier drifted in the void, caught between nothingness and awareness. 

Then, a voice called out.

It wasn't sound. It wasn't vibration. It was something more profound, a declaration that embedded itself directly into his very essence as if the words weren't meant to be heard but to be understood beyond the constraints of language. It was the almighty being.

Your reality has unraveled. The wasteful and purposeless among you shall be discarded. But among the countless existences, sentient and non-sentient, a select few shall be given the opportunity to prove their worth. To be granted a place in a world of true meaning. Avaris.

Xavier found himself momentarily suspended in an unfamiliar feeling. Not fear. Not relief. Just a hollow silence as the words continued to etch themselves into his mind.

Avaris, a world where even the smallest of creatures may find purpose. A world where existence itself holds weight. You, who hear this decree, have been selected to partake in a handcrafted trial. Among the unessential masses, only those who prove themselves shall ascend. To become Loreforged, those of definite higher purpose. Those who will truly succeed in this world.

Those who fail will still remain but will acknowledge that they hold no worth.

The voice carried the weight of something absolute. It was not a choice, not a plea. It was law. The decree of an existence so far beyond comprehension that defying it was as meaningless as a spark defying a wildfire.

Then came the final words, resonating with an undeniable finality:

Those who face this trial will forge a story for themselves. But it must not be forgotten. Any story can be created. But only a story with purpose can truly exist.

And then, silence.

Xavier felt something shift within himself. A realization. Those words—that decree—meant that he, too, had been chosen.

'Me?'

He let the thought sink in, and for a moment, he simply couldn't comprehend it. He had never considered himself to be of any importance. No hidden talents, no extraordinary skills, no fate-defying abilities. He wasn't some prodigy or miracle child like those other fucks his age, nor had he been born into wealth or influence.

He had nothing.

'Hell, I'm not even average.'

Nothing except a good memory and an uncanny knack for finding ways to fuck up his life. And he wasn't even that good at that, his memory serving only as a storage of grudges he couldn't let go.

'Not exactly the traits of a chosen one.'

He had expected the selection to favor the elite, the prodigies, the ones with so-called "destined greatness." Yet, here he was. Maybe the selection was random, or maybe there was some incomprehensible logic behind it.

He didn't know. He couldn't know.

But what he did know was this: he had been chosen, whether by mistake or by some unknown design, and there was no turning back now.

He had nothing to lose.

At some part of his consciousness, he knew that this trial wasn't anything normal. He knew that some way or another this was actually something more than he could understand. The way this being spoke about it made it pretty obvious that whatever being a Loreforged meant, it was pretty good.

And one thing Xavier knew was that there was no such thing as good things without risks. He wouldn't be shocked if this 'trial' could kill him and to be honest, his odds of survival were practically nonexistent.

But that wasn't new to him. He was supposed to die tonight anyway. If this was just another inevitability, he might as well see where it led.

After all, what was one more impossible trial in the life of someone who had nothing to care about or fear for?

For a short moment, Xayn was met with nothing, just silence. He wondered what was going on when he felt some sort of delay. He couldn't pinpoint what gave him that idea but that was what it felt like to him.

'I wonder what's happening...'

Xavier's vision, if it could even be called that, began to shift. The formless void that had encompassed him started to stir, bending and warping in ways that defied reason. At first, it was subtle—fleeting flickers of words appearing beneath him. These words weren't just near him; they stretched far below as if he were gazing from a celestial vantage point, watching reality be woven together beneath him.

The letters emerged in waves, an endless tide of ink forming coherent structures. Small words like "dirt" and "stone" coalesced first, fragmenting and interlocking in a delicate dance. As they merged, they no longer remained mere words but became something more tangible. "Dirt" layered upon "stone," and where they joined, the term "land" was etched into existence. The moment it formed, it became real—a vast, stretching terrain of soil and bedrock sprawling outward, limitless and unending.

Xavier was held captive by the sight before him, unable to do anything but marvel at the impossible. It was not simply the creation of a world, but the articulation of one. A reality that had to be written before it could exist, where language was the blueprint of creation.

Then came the rivers and lakes. Words like "stream" and "wave" interwove, forming the flowing motions of water, cascading and twisting through valleys sculpted by their existence. Above them, the air itself began to materialize, the word "sky" stretching across the void like a vast dome, its presence shaping the world into something habitable.

Forests sprouted from nothingness, their names carving their forms into being. "Tree" multiplied into dense thickets and towering woodlands, where each leaf and branch bore the imprint of the letters that had given it life. The world was no longer an abstract idea—it was breathing, living, and real.

And then, at the center of it all, his gaze was drawn to a singular, breathtaking sight—a mountain, rising high above the rest of the land. Its jagged peaks were crowned with a magnificent city, constructed entirely of words that morphed and solidified into grand architecture. The moment he saw it, he knew this place was different. This city was not just a structure; it was a declaration. The towering castle at its peak stood as the heart of this newborn land, its presence regal and commanding.

Xavier could feel something changing. The endless void that had surrounded him was now retreating, the distance between him and the world below shrinking with every passing moment. It was as if he were being pulled downward, drawn into this realm that had been shaped before his very eyes. Words flowed around him, wrapping around his form, their essence seeping into him as reality claimed him once more.

Sensations returned—first, the faintest traces of weight, then the familiar pressure of gravity. The void was gone. He was descending.

His pulse quickened, anxiety creeping in as he fell faster and faster. What was happening? Where was he being taken? Would he survive the descent, or would he be obliterated upon impact? The questions swirled within him, but before he could process them, everything went dark.

And then, in the abyss of his mind, he saw the words appear. Grand and bold, in colors he couldn't distinguish.

[Your First Story Is Before You]