The Invisible String Theory

Chapter 1 -The Weight of the Relic

(Lily of the valley - DANIEL)

Elyndor was once a radiant realm brimming with vibrant life and elegance. Its people, the Elyardi, were born connected with the earth beneath their feet and essentially with each other, or what they had called the Heartstream. They were naturally seen as Supportants, each ability never destroying or dominating - they had a very clear system of push and pull, give and take, it was pure balance. Their gifts could mend broken bodies, restore shattered minds, calm violent storms, and strengthen bonds between people. A power like this was so strong and beautiful, its purity practically glowing. But that glow is the very thing that piqued a certain being's interests. The Hollow. An ancient sovereign from beyond the stars, who craved something to fill its void - known for devouring anything that helped make it feel somewhat whole again.

I remember the day like it was just yesterday. I was young and too carefree to understand what was really happening. I wish I understood what my father had said before everything I knew fell apart at my feet - back when everything was calm.

Dad and I were sitting on the balcony at home, watching as our sun slowly set before our city. The sky was painted with streaks of a violent orange and touched with hints of purple and violet. Sun rays beamed between the cityscape feeding into the plant life growing up our walls. Dad had always wanted them dealt with, but I always loved the flowers that grew from them every year. There was a light breeze pushing past my short hair as I sat on the railing, legs swinging back and forth, and Dad resting his elbows next to me, partially leaning in.

"Miravyn", he said, breaking the peaceful silence, his voice soft and thoughtful. He never seemed hurried, not my dad. Always measured, always steady.
"Do you ever wonder if the world has always been this way? Or if we've just gotten used to it?"

I turned to look at him. His face was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes—something that made me stop and think. I didn't quite understand what he meant, but I nodded anyway. "I think it's always been this way. I mean, this is all I've ever known."

He smiled, just a little, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Yes, you're right. For you, this is the world you were born into." He began to trace his fingers on the glimmering rails, etched like woven string curling into each other. "But, Miravyn, sometimes I wonder if we've forgotten how to listen. To the world. To each other."

I didn't understand. All I knew was that Dad's words were always important, always filled with meaning. "We don't forget, do we? We're all connected, right?" I looked up at him, my eyes wide. "Like the Heartstream. We're all part of it, so how could we forget?"

He laughed softly, the sound warm like the summer air. "No, we don't forget. But sometimes, we stop listening to what the Heartstream is trying to tell us." He seemed lost in thought for a moment, his gaze distant. "Maybe that's what's happening now..."
The next few days felt strange, though. Little things, at first. Things I didn't know how to explain. One morning, when I went outside to play, I noticed that the flowers in the garden—our garden—weren't blooming like they usually did. They looked faded, like they had lost their color, as though they hadn't felt the warmth of the sun in years.

I went to dad with it. "Look, Dad," I said, tugging on his sleeve. "The flowers aren't like they used to be. They don't look... happy."
He smiled at me, but I could see the concern in his eyes. "They're just tired, Miravyn. Sometimes the land needs rest."

But even as he said it, I could hear the faintest tremor in his voice, like he wasn't quite sure if that was true. That night, the air in Elyndor was thick with a quiet that felt like the calm before a great storm. Dad and I stood in the heart of the city, looking toward the far horizon where the first whispers of the Hollow Sovereign had begun to spread like wildfire. I could feel the shake in the earth beneath me, as if the land itself was afraid.