Final Gate: Origin of the eight realms

The wind flew past Frents hair, dragging it through the skies, mirroring the waves below. The light of dusk covered the horizon, a blend of scarlet, honey, and a tender blue haze covered the skies. The sun above, though fading, emitted a soft ray of light, warm to the touch, comparable to a mother's touch. Stars started to for as night approached, while clouds retreated along with the sun. Frent looked afar, gazing towards the horizon ahead of his vessel. His vessel was tinted with a soft brown, slightly withered from decades of use. His vessel resembled one commonly seen during the Victorian era. His vessel was small — crafted to hold no more than 3 souls. His vessel was crafted fifty years ago by his late grandfather; though, despite it's age, the vessel still holds on an air of dependability — still effective for voyages. A white flag with a half moon crescent stood in the middle, printed ontop of the moon stood the words: The Alons flew atop the rundown vessel, riding the breeze originating from the horizon. From afar, a mysterious island silhouette quickly caught Frent's attention. Frent quickly mumbled.. 'Could it be?.. The land where dreams flourish with the cost of the lives of those foolish enough to challenge it.' Frent's initlal facial expression of drowsiness caused by his 3 day voyage came to end — replaced with a faint, yet soft smile. His excitement could be felt from a mile away, it shined brighter than any sun. His eyes, once dull, was replaced with a soft, childlike awe — he could barely contain his exhilaration, what quickly started off as a soft mumble quickly shifted into a proud speech: I've made it!… he cried, echoing into the vast, shallow horizon, swallowed by the void that laid within the ocean. In the blink of an eye, he arrived at his destination. He laid at the shore of the island lost to history — once an island filled with the laughter of its previous residence has now shifted into what appears to be an empty void, deprived of any noticeable life. Though, Frent knew this was a facade, for he knew a pavise concealed secrets incomprehensible to the fleeting sight. Frent often heard tales regarding an obscure entrance that led to another realm — hidden at the end of the world. Though, this place was not always hidden; In fact, it was once the passage early humans once traversed to arrive to our world — or so he was told. Frent dreamed of always setting out on a voyage to this mysterious realm, ever since he was a kid. Now, to the present day, he has arrived. Frent looked around cautiously, for he was unaware of the path that laid before him. He stepped off his vessel, cautiously anaylzing his surroundings. Frent could see numerous trees, along with countless small shrubs with odd berries planted on each shrub. Frent tentatively walked towards the shrubs — hoping to investigate their odd appearance. Once he was closer, the berries true appearance unveiled; They resembled a slightly larger blueberry, tainted with odd patterns from tip to toe resembling small bolts of lightning. Additionally, the stem in which the berries grew from were thorny, similar to stems that would commonly be seen with roses. He was appalled at such an odd discovery… Frent had never seen such unique berries before. Frent knew he had to collect some to research further later — but, for now, his main objective was to find the hidden passage that led to the other realm; he picked five of the berries and stored it within the leather pouch, embedded with the moon crest that belonged to his family situated at the middle, surrounded by small metal encasings from left the right to support the structure of the pouch, he was holding. Frent shifted his gaze upwards, now seeing titanic mountains in the distance. Frent wanted to explore further, but he was aware that the sun would soon slip beneath the horizon. So, Frent decided to momentarily stop his search — and instead focus on crafting a shelter for the night. Laid within his leather pouch stood a small, rusty pocket knife, barely useful for anything other than cutting small fruits into pieces, or defending against a small critter. Frent grasped the knife into his hand, slowly venturing into the forest of countless trees and shrubs, accounting for the possibility of encountering beasts — though life existing here was nearly impossible. He cautiously cut down multiple shrubs near his vicinity, then connected all the shrubs with a small, silky rope he held within his pouch. In addition to the rope that dwelled within his pouch, he also had a makeshift glue type substance he bought from his hometown. He slowly crafted his makeshift shelter to surround him — just useful enough to protect from potential rain. After hours of work, he was finally done — and it was perfect timing, as he could now advance toward his slumber for the night; he was tired. He slowly laid on the makeshift pillow he made out of the shrubs he scavenged, along with a thin, nearly hallowed blanket — only useful enough to partially shield against the piercing cold. His eyes fluttered, surrendering to fatigue, his vision blurred, the sight before him softened, his shoulders slumped, the tension slowly fading... The sun slipped beneath the horizon… the day grew dark… The night swallowed the last sight of day… All of a sudden, he could hear a soft rustle in the distance, heart thudding in the night… cautious of the sound recently made. He slowly awoke frim his slumber — though his body was limp and fatigued. His gaze, still blurry, graduedly looked at his surroundings, slowly analyzing every bit; he could see nothing at first. He knew the sound recently made was nearby…. He slowly grabbed the rusted pocket knife from his pouch, then warily moved out of the makeshift tent to explore his surroundings… he slowly got out of his tent, tentatively looking around — though he saw nothing at first…. Thud! He could hear a small stick being shattered… he was now alarmed, addrierline rushing through his blood stream — his heart beating at every waking moment, emitting sounds that could be heard from a mile away…. His eyes, restlessly moving, analyzing his surroundings, his shoulders, stiff to the touch, his legs, slightly shivering, his hands, shaking, his grapsed on his knife slightly loosened....