(( Yup, I'm finally actually continuing this story that I almost started over a year ago. And...I start it with another prologue that requires you reading through at least two ancient stories. I'm apparently evil like that.))

This prologue occurs somewhere between the climax and the end of This Story. It is reccomended reading for this entire serial.

The Near Prologue


It was a space between moments – a leaf hung mid-fall, a bird’s wings went still and yet it remained trapped in the air like an insect surrounded by amber. The only things still showing signs of life were the tree and the gods. Then the still world faded to black.
The tree that grew among the purple flowers looked out over the abyss before him; it was full of what looked like little suns, hanging in the blackness. Was the world of deer so different from the world it had always seen? The tree looked towards the Twin Gods.
“Before you are rewarded, you must pass one final test –“ the Red God said. The Gold One added, “the simplest and the hardest of all.”
The tree’s leaves quivered, the rustling for a moment filling the silent world. Neither the trees nor the Twin Gods breathed. “I’m ready,” it said.
“This realm is the testing ground,” said the Gold God, who was standing now where the Red one had been. They hadn’t moved an inch. “It is a place between things – between times, and places, and states of selves. What it looks like changes depending on where you’ve come from, and where you’re going.”
“…So the suns?” The tree said.
“They’re not suns, little one,” the Red God said. “They’re names. We’ll grant you your wish when you find yours.”
“But I don’t have a name. No one’s ever given me one.” The tree stared out among the rows and rows of glowing names that surrounded it on all sides. It thought it could see, in the farthest distance, rows and rows of names still stretching on. The distance made the smallest ones it could see no bigger than the sun reflected in a dove’s eye.
The Golden God laughed – it sounded like cracking, like a branch breaking or a gunshot.
“You already have one. Everyone has a name. It’s your heart given shape, and it’s something only you may know the meaning to.” The Red God said. He tilted his head and, as he and the Gold God blurred into one another and switched places again, added, “You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Y-yes, oh gods.” The Tree stared out into the endless names. It began to shuffle forward on its roots, pushing inch by agonizing inch. The Twin Gods looked at one another.
“This may take longer than foreseen.” The Red One said. “We should perhaps speed this up.” The Gold one nodded.
They brought their antlers together and a light glowed around the tree. It looked down and found itself transformed; it stood on rickety wooden fawn legs, the brown bark following the patterns of fur. Across its back were layers of glossy leaves, arranged on top of one another and reflecting the dots of light, that left the wooden face exposed. A pair of small branches sprouted on its head, sprouting little leaves and vines. It possessed a par of luminous gold eyes that looked at itself in wonder. If it had tears, it would have wept.
“Thank you, oh mighty Twin Gods!”
“This is just to speed things along. The new one will be permanent, and better,” they said in graceful unison.
The tree-deer nodded and went out into the glowing orbs, skipping in the joy of seeing it could skip.
It spent a long time out there. The air was neither hot nor cold, and the lights of the names gave off no heat. Maybe it saw all of them, all the names of deer that wouldn’t be born for years – maybe it saw the names of deer that would stand as monuments among deer, and deer that would be born and abandoned, and deer that passed like a bright and beautiful flash. Every now and then, at a faster tempo as it moved, a name or two would vanish.
And once, it looked down at itself, and saw the answer. It was the most simple and obvious thing in the world, once Seed thought about it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Seed asked after it revealed the answer to the Twin Gods.
“Because – if you had to be told, you wouldn’t be ready.” They answered in unison. And they again brought their antlers together, and one moment finally finished transitioning into the next. The fairytale ended – and this story began.