Immortals: Slovenia

Neva

My name is Neva, and I have lived for more than five thousand years. I was born in a wooden house on stilts above the marshy land, where my people grew crops and raised animals. We were peaceful and prosperous, trading with other settlements along the river. We had a simple but comfortable life, until the day everything changed.

It was the day we found the wheel.

My father was a skilled carpenter, and he was always looking for new ways to improve our tools and vehicles. He had heard of a strange object that some travelers had seen in the south, a round piece of wood that could roll on the ground and carry heavy loads. He was fascinated by the idea, and he wanted to make one for himself. He asked me to help him, as I was his only child and he taught me everything he knew.

We went to the forest, where we cut down a large ash tree and a smaller oak tree. We brought them back to our workshop, where we carved and shaped them into a wheel and an axle. It took us many days and nights, but we finally finished our masterpiece. We were proud of our work, and we decided to test it the next morning.

We attached the wheel and the axle to a wooden platform, and we loaded it with some sacks of grain. We pushed it along the dirt road, and we were amazed by how smoothly and easily it moved. We felt like we had discovered a new magic, a secret that would change our lives for the better. We wanted to share it with everyone, and we headed to the village center, where we hoped to impress our neighbors and friends.

But we never made it there.

As we approached the bridge that crossed the river, we saw a group of armed men waiting for us. They were strangers, dressed in metal and leather, with swords and spears in their hands. They had horses, and some of them had wheels on their chariots. They looked at us with greed and malice, and they shouted something in a language we did not understand.

They attacked us.

They killed my father, and they tried to kill me. They wanted our wheel, and they wanted our land. They were invaders, who came from far away to conquer and plunder. They were ruthless and cruel, and they showed no mercy.

But I did not die.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as a sword pierced my heart. I fell to the ground, and I saw my father's lifeless body next to me. I saw the blood spilling from our wounds, and I saw the fire spreading from the burning houses. I saw the screams and cries of my people, and I saw the laughter and cheers of the enemy. I saw the wheel, rolling away from me, into the hands of the thieves.

I saw it all, and then I saw nothing.

But I did not die.

I woke up, hours later, in the darkness. I was alone, and I was alive. I touched my chest, and I felt no wound. I felt no pain, and I felt no fear. I felt something else, something new and strange. I felt a power, a force, a spark. I felt immortal.

I do not know how or why it happened, but I think it had something to do with the wheel. Maybe it was a gift, or a curse, or a coincidence. Maybe it was fate, or destiny, or chance. I do not know, and I do not care. All I know is that I survived, and I swore to myself that I would never let anyone take what was mine again.

I buried my father, and I left the marshes. I took nothing with me, except a knife and a necklace that he had made for me. I wandered the world, alone and free, seeking revenge and justice. I fought and killed many enemies, and I made many allies and friends. I learned many languages and skills, and I saw many wonders and horrors. I lived through many wars and peace, and I witnessed many changes and revolutions. I loved and lost many times, and I never aged or sickened.

I am Neva, and I am immortal.

And this is my story.