Why do I still live?
I am older than the world that was created by Creator himself. Just like I was and so were hundreds of others. Gumcum Iziksu was reminiscing as he usually did when smoking. He looked barely over twenty, yet was older than time itself. Every Eternal appeared different age.
Eternals... Some wander around the continent without a care in the world, some are important people having important positions among mortals, yet most doesn't - just like me.
Gumcum breathed out the smoke.
I remember what Father of All whispered when creating us: "live as if you were dead, as that is what you always will be!". That's how much he loved his creation. He gave us no land, no time nor space - only purpose, and power to fulfill it. He made bunch of entities and gave us tools to control parts of universe: water, lighting, time, ground, rock, magic, nature, and so on. Every part of world is under control of essence hidden in talisman, ring, or whatever each of us got. We are the ones holding the world together...
Yet it's Him the people worship. Not us.
Gumcum flicked the cigarette away carelessly and stomped over it. He took out the second one from his pocket and lit it. The fresh smell of nicotine was what he needed, after all it wouldn't hurt him. Nothing ever did.
The existence of Eternals isn't something the world talks about. There are no books, no public knowledge. Only monks, bards, magic scholars, and powerful institutions know to some extend we exist. The rest? They speak of us in myths, or not at all. Why would they? Most Eternals never speak of who we are. Our only purpose is to protect the Essence of Creation. As far as we know - only an Eternal can wield their essence. And each essence is bound to its Eternal. It can't be stolen as long as we live - and we do not die.
But mortals are mad. They fear what they can't control. And fear... makes them curious. One day, someone might kill an Eternal. It's impossible. But who knows?
Maybe it's better this way. That no mortals know who really holds this world together. Because if they knew... They'd try to tear it apart.
Just like we did.
Iziksu pressed the cigarette into his arm. Not even a sting. He walked into the station.