Ascendance // a DreamNotFound fanfiction WITH AN UNSATISFYING ENDING

Chapter 1: Apocalypse

[2346 words]

~Dream, farm worker of Orlan~

Apocalypse arrived in the Kingdom of Flor on a bright, sunny afternoon at the end of summer. Agricultural harvests waned, but crops still growing for autumn were as vital to the kingdom economy as those harvested during summer. No one in my community of Orlan received any warning before our worst nightmare stole everything.

The Florean climate was usually fair. Warm summers, mild winters, and a steady river flowing through the kingdom's lush territory were ideal for cultivating a variety of crops. Behind my family's house lay a massive plot of land owned by one of many landlords from the Teja community. My neighborhood in particular specialized in barley, oats, and wheat; expanses of grain fields grew across the landscape, their waving stalks forming a mirage against the horizon. Agriculture formed the foundation of the kingdom's economy, the livelihood of the community of Orlan, and the only reliable source of income for my family.

With a woven fiber basket tucked under one arm, I emerged from my family's two-room adobe house to perform a farm worker's daily inspection of his crop. My bare feet stirred dust from the ground; caked layers of dirt and mud concealed the calloused pale skin beneath. However, as I approached the fields, billowing movement on the horizon distracted my eyes. Squinting, I frowned; in the distance, hundreds of meters above the ground, a large dust-colored cloud approached rapidly from the otherwise clear skies.

Other farm workers inspecting and harvesting grains from the field lifted their heads as well, some shielding their eyes against the sun's rays to peer at the dust-colored cloud high above our heads. Within seconds, the cloud maneuvered, unnaturally for a non-living entity.

My heart dropped as the cloud blotted out the sun, thrusting the fields into an ominous shade. This was no weather event. Rare, but more destructive than any other natural disaster, the dense swarm above our heads were...

"Locusts!"

Instinctively I ducked my head as human screams ripped through the calm breeze. Other residents of the crowded Orlanian neighborhood froze, then most clutched their woven fiber baskets close to their chests before diving for cover. Rushing feet smashed through grain stalks, filling the air with shivering rattles as farm workers evacuated the fields, surrendering our hard work to the incoming cloud.

The thought of losing the entire second half of the year's harvest pushed me into action. Efforts to save more than a tiny fraction of the crops would be futile, but I did not wish to do nothing. Grabbing every stalk I could fit into one hand as I carried the woven fiber basket in the other, I glanced from the barley stalks to the sky. My heart pounded with fear and exhilaration, but I would avoid leaving until the last possible second.

Millions of tiny wings droned above my head, blocking out all other noises. Downward winds buffeted my exposed skin and hair as I shucked grain stalks, cursing when dozens of pods split from the rough treatment and spilled their precious seeds upon the dirt below.

Faintly I heard my younger sister Sandy race onto our adobe house's rickety back porch; I glanced back to see her teal eyes widening with horror as they fixed upon the incoming apocalypse. "What are those things?" Her shriek betrayed fright of the insects themselves, rather than of the destruction they would cause.

Locusts posed no direct threat to humans; they did not bite, nor did they carry disease. Instead, their menace lay in their insatiable appetites. The cloud, tens of millions of insects strong, would satisfy their voracious hunger by consuming leaves and stems of trees, grass, vegetable plants, and grain stalks.

"They won't hurt you," I assured. Desperately I called for her assistance, "Help me pick barley until they land!"

Too stunned to suggest a different idea, my sister leapt off the back porch to join my side. Her arm strength was lesser than mine, but her efforts were no less determined as we stripped the barley stalks together.