Summary

One by one, the stories died. All that was left were facts. Stories, the old books, ceased to exist. But there're always rebels who were against that. Minerva's trying to survive a harsh world created after a storyteller's fault centuries ago, causing a butterfly effect that ruined the future. Now is a world where storytellers are punished and killed, where books don't exist, where only facts are acknowledged. Where everything a storyteller says, will become the truth. As she struggles to survive the world and it's cruelty while also helping others, what challenges will she face and what hard decisions will she have to make in order to survive?

Genre: Action,Fantasy

Author: FieryDNA

Status: 8yrs ago

Chapters: 3

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 13+

Prologue

It had always begun with a tale.

Tales of the old, tales of the new, tales unheard of, tales unknown.

But where the tales came from, no one was sure. One thought it had come from witches weaving. The finished spun threads weaving tales of the unknown, tales of the wonders, and tales of the unbelievable. Another one had told of a great storyteller had come from across the ocean, delivering these tales of the unusual, of goblins and twits, of unicorns and butterfly fairies, of Pegasus and fantasized weapons... But the most common of all was that a magical person, from a world far more extraordinary than ours, came to our world of all and spread the stories amongst the people. The people were then known as the story-passers. People who passed down the stories from generation to generation. The person then gave selected people the power to make any stories coming out of their mouth to come true.

They were living in harmony with each other, the story-passers, storytellers and the normal folks when a person came and ruined it all.

One storyteller had weaved a story about invisible clothing. To the king. But he had whispered underneath his breath that the clothing is to be false. However, the king had believed it and wore that ‘invisible’ clothing -which was presumably a robe- for a whole week. The king wasn’t that happy when he realized that it was false. He spread it amongst the other kingdoms and declared (for he was rather a great king) that all storytellers and story-passers shall be executed. What became of the at-fault storyteller, nobody knew. All they knew was that his last name was one that people came to hate.

Romdo.

And so, one by one, the stories died. All that was left were facts. Stories, the old books, ceased to exist. But there were -and still are- rebels who were against that. Rebels who tried their best to pass down what they known of the word ‘creation’ to their children, and their grandchildren, and so on and so forth.

Years had passed.

Centuries had passed.

Not a trace of the original stories remained to the public.