"Midahs. They call Him Midahs.
Though, whether one could even refer to It as a 'He' or a 'She' is entirely based on opinion. You see, long ago, Midahs was nothing more than a mere stone - a rock, that fell from the ever-starry heavens of the Twilight Kingdom. It fell from here, yes, but it landed far to the South, somewhere in the Midlands, where seasons are four and dusk is permanent. It came to rest near a small farming village. The village was poor, and it's people stupid. Such is the way of things."
Atrum waved his hand in circles and rolled his eyes in a way that said his tale so far was common knowledge. However, as young as he was, Dane still had plenty to learn. Questions bubbled from him much like his glass of milk bubbled now, as he used his straw to blow into the contents. He paused in his antics to pipe in: "If He was just an ordinary rock, where'd He get His name?"
Atrum glared at him, though the old man knew by now the action would yield no reaction from the boy. "Let me finish before you question, child! And for goodness sake, stop blowing bubbles! Learn some damned manners!"
Dane giggled at that. ~If manners are so sought-after, why are they damned?~ But he kept his thoughts to himself and drank his milk silently, waiting for Atrum to continue his story telling.
Atrum coughed and hacked, clearing his throat. He took a swig from whatever concoction swam within his mug before resuming where left off. "Now . . . As I said, the people were stupid. One boy in particular was more stupid than the rest. He left his village in a hurry, curious and eager to discover what it was that fell from the sky. He came across our Midahs then: an idiot-boy discovering a mindless, nameless, motionless rock. But when he approached said rock . . . Well, nobody quite knows. Some of the boy's fellow villagers say he just died ten feet from the stone. Others say he touched it, and in a great flash of light, disappeared. Too many witness accounts keep history fogged. Anyways, the boy's name . . ." Here, Atrum paused to lift a brow at Dane, glaring at him once more with one hard eye before continuing, ". . . was Midahs. Yes, the rock inherited the boy's name - not because he was the one to discover It . . . But because the stone became Midahs. Ever since the boy-once-known-as-Midahs neared the rock-now-known-as-Midahs, the rock took on It's beloved glow. Not only did it begin to glow, but at the same time, it began to speak. It spoke of the memories it had - those of Midahs the farm boy . . . But soon after, It spoke of the memories of Midahs the stone, and how it sped through empty blackness for over a millennium." Atrum stopped and swirled the contents of his mug, examining it with squinted eyes. Dane waited patiently, assuming the old man was thinking of how to begin the next chapter of Midahs's history. But the silence stretched on. Eventually, Dane would speak.
"So . . . What happened next?"
Atrum brought his squint up from his drink to meet the child's curious gaze. "You still want to know more?" His voice was caught somewhere between astonished and annoyed. Dane replied by nodding his head enthusiastically. "Well, there's not much left to tell. It's quite simple: Midahs, the glowing, remembering, talking stone from the heavens went on talking - and thinking. It thought and it thought and it never slept. Whenever a person had a question, Midahs had an answer. Whenever there was a dilemma, Midahs had a solution. The people began to worship Him, think Him infallible. He rose to infamy in a matter of years, and His name echoed across the globe. Several hundred years later, our Twilight Kingdom here had come to completion. Queen Ovelia, who ruled the North, had been known to make frequent visits to Midahs, seeking governmental, and sometimes personal advice. When she was to take her throne upon the freshly furnished kingdom, she asked Midahs to join her. He accepted, and was moved - they say by the finest steeds and noblest and strongest of men - to His own grand chambers in the Royal Hall here in Twilight. As time passed, the queen eventually died. But Midahs lived on, thinking and answering and solving. The royal family lived on, ruling as they always had. Only, after a few generations, the kings and queens became nothing more than an empty husk, a puppet through which Midahs ruled with decisiveness and unsurpassed wisdom. Seeing this, the people of Twilight grew ill at ease. Midahs learned of this and, sure enough, came up with a solution. Instead of leaving a royal family to lead, generation after generation, growing dependent on His word alone, a council would be voted upon by the people to select a child, or Court, upon the death of the latest king or queen to rule until they in turn passed on. Of course, new members of the council would be voted on with each time an elder passed to the next life, but no need for too many details. And, indeed, that brings us to today, waiting for the news that our bed-ridden King James has passed on so that the next king or queen may be chosen by our aging council."
Atrum leaned back into his high-backed chair and downed the rest of his drink, setting the heavy mug down on the table between him and Dane. The old man gazed into the dying fire, letting silence fill the tiny, cozy home. Dane stared down into his empty glass, holding it with both hands as he tried to grasp all of this new knowledge. So, Midahs was a rock from the stars, who took the mind of a farm boy, and became what many considered today to be a God, counseling in the ruling of the mightiest kingdom to ever exist. Dane had to shake his head rapidly from side to side. It was quite a thing to wrap his mind around. He looked back up, pulled from his thoughts, when Atrum spoke up again.
"Aye, aren't you playmates with one of the Courts? Alexius? She's from the far South, I hear. Naturally dark-skinned. If they choose her in the time to come, I imagine you'll be quite lonely."
Dane nodded solemnly, a sadness washing over him at the thought. Be he smiled it away. "That's right! And we're supposed to be playing tag with the Tin Men today!"
Atrum laughed - a very rare sound - and waved Dane away. "Go on, then. Don't keep her waiting."