Nina's voice continued with a bright, eager cadence, as though she were repeating a story she found genuinely fascinating rather than reciting class material.
"—according to what Professor Morris told us, the end of the Order Epoch came with what is now known as the Great Annihilation. That was the cataclysm that ended the last true age of stability and ushered in our current era: the Deep Sea Age.
"The Great Annihilation wasn't just a single disaster. It was more like the result of multiple worlds—realities—colliding together. There are myths from different races—like the Elvarians, the Thalkin tribes, and the coastal Gyprelli—that all recount similar tales but in their own cultural language. Some say the stars fell, others say the oceans boiled over and swallowed the land, some even say the laws of reality themselves began to fracture.
"But most historians agree that before it happened, the world was vastly different. The continents were larger, the oceans more contained, and there were no such things as borderless reality rifts or deep-sea anomalies. The sky had stars, real stars—not just the scar of the World's Wound. That era was called the Order Epoch, and its societies were said to be prosperous, orderly, and clean of corruption."
Duncan listened in silence. The steam curling up from his mug of soup shimmered in the soft light from the antique shop windows, and outside, a delivery cart rattled past on the uneven cobblestones.
"And after the Great Annihilation?" he asked, careful to sound casual.
"That's when everything fell apart," Nina said, as if the phrase came straight from her textbook. "The Order Epoch was shattered. The land broke apart into isolated isles, the deep sea expanded uncontrollably, and strange phenomena began to manifest—things like borderless zones, silent tides, and of course, the first whispers of subspace incursions. That's the start of the Deep Sea Age, which we're still living in now."
She paused, scooping another spoonful of soup. "The first post-Annihilation civilization to rise was the Old Cretic Kingdom. It didn't last long—barely a century, according to the records—but it laid the groundwork for all modern city-states. They were the ones who first catalogued anomalies, who devised the earliest warding rituals, who taught people how to live on isolated isles surrounded by deadly waters."
Duncan nodded slowly. "You seem to know this material quite well."
Nina beamed. "It's actually my favorite subject. I know most kids prefer engine theory or applied mechanics, but I like history. Even if most of it is just… pieced together from fragments and myths."
Duncan didn't comment on that. His thoughts were elsewhere. He wasn't just impressed by Nina's academic diligence—he was trying to absorb everything she said and measure it against the fragmented impressions from the memories he had inherited, and what little he knew about this strange, post-collapse world.
The Order Epoch. The Great Annihilation. A unified, prosperous world reduced to splintered islands amid a sentient, chaotic sea. It was a lot to take in.
And still, the picture remained incomplete.
What kind of disaster could distort the world so completely and then allow it to reform in such a twisted shape? Had it been a magical calamity? A war between gods? Or—as some of Nina's sources hinted—something far worse?
Something from beyond.
He leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting toward the storefront windows again. Somewhere in the haze of sunlight and soot beyond those glass panes, the world continued to churn forward—oblivious to the truths it may have buried long ago.
Nina, meanwhile, seemed perfectly content with her half of the cake and the task of sharing what she'd learned.
"And there's one more thing," she added suddenly. "Our history teacher says there are still some who believe that the Great Annihilation hasn't actually ended. That it's still unfolding—just really, really slowly. Like a fire that's still burning under the ashes."
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe that?"
Nina shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it sounds like the kind of thing crazy preachers would yell about on the docks. But then again… this world is pretty weird. So maybe?"
She smiled, picking up her cup with both hands.
"Anyway, that's what I've learned so far. I hope I didn't bore you."
"Not at all," Duncan said truthfully. "You've given me a lot to think about."
Too much, perhaps.
He looked down at his hands. They were steady now. Warm from the meal, clean from the water he'd used to wash up, and strangely… his.
The world might still be breaking apart at the seams. But for now, at least, there was peace in this little antique shop. And breakfast.
And, surprisingly, a reason to stay a little longer.