There are many worlds along the Axis Mundi, but the Everywhen wasn’t like those other worlds. It was closer to the One, the source of all life and existence. It was a favorite of the One and because of that it lived. It could feel, and it could think after a fashion. But ever since the Sin it had been injured. It was broken. It hadn’t thought. It had only felt and all it could feel was pain.

  One day, the Everywhen had been given a gift. It was given freely and with an open heart, and that gift had begun the process of healing. For the first time since the Sin, the Everywhen was aware that it was hurting, and that hurting had lessened. It still wasn’t whole, but it was awake.

  During its long and painful slumber, the Everywhen couldn’t tell stories. That was what it was meant to do, because stories build lives. The Everywhen was meant to create. It hadn’t been able to for such a long time that patterns had emerged instead, but patterns were not stories. They felt like stories to the beings that lived them, but they were not truly stories. Stories taught and comforted. Stories guided people. Patterns were merely tracks to follow. They didn’t live. Patterns were like rivers. Stories were like a flood.

  The Everywhen knew what it needed to be healed of the Sin. The wondrous gift had been a part of it, and the other piece it needed would come. The Everywhen could sense that other piece out there in the lower worlds, so it just had to have patience. It had nothing but time. It slowed itself to keep pace with that piece as it tried desperately to keep up with the Everywhen. The piece reached and grasped desperately. The Everywhen was patient, but it now felt anticipation for the Moment.

  The beings that called the Everywhen home felt that anticipation build for months. The elves became giddy without knowing why and began celebrations that none of them could explain to the other races. The dwarves became anxious and insular as the sense of waiting ground on them like the weight of their mountain homes. The orcs prepared for something they couldn’t explain, and readied their defenses in case of an attack. Even the short lived humans felt it, and the humans normally ignored anything that was not of themselves. The feeling reached a fever’s pitch. The entire world seemed to vibrate with it.

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  Then, one day, in the foothills of the Airy Mountain, a sword blade pierced the air on a hilltop. The Everywhen would have held its breath if it had breath to hold. Instead, the wind in the foot hills stilled. While it was unique, the Everywhen knew this blade. It glowed and had cut its way through from somewhere else. It sat there, hanging in the air. The anticipation became dreadful. The entire world felt like it wanted to scream.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sword blade was dragged down and a glowing rip became a hole to one of the lower worlds. The wide world. In that world was exactly what the Everywhen knew it needed.

  The Everywhen sighed, and that sigh became a warm wind that passed through the portal and cut a chill there. It found and caressed what it felt on the other side. Its salvation. It was actually there. For a long moment, nothing happened and the Everywhen experience impatience for the first time, but then it heard something.

  A vow.

  Vows were sacred things. They had been set down by the Many to bind the soul to a course of action. Vows were not taken lightly. The Everywhen sent the wind again to caress the one who swore, and to let them know that the vow had been heard. This vow, in particular, was sacred and the Everywhen shuddered to witness it.

  Finally, a man stepped through that hole in the air. The Everywhen felt power in the being. The Answer. The Everywhen tried to close the portal, but the man held it open and looked back through it at his home for a final time. Then, the man allowed the Everywhen to close the way. Doors were dangerous things. The Everywhen knew that, but this was different. This was a Moment. Moments were allowed to breathe. The man stood on the hill by the Airy Mountain and looked out over the Everywhen. The world calmed. The anticipation was finally over. It was time. The Everywhen knew that it was time to heal. Stories could teach and heal. Now, with the other half there, it was finally