The Sands of Scara

Chapter One

 Legends tell of a time when there was nothing but the creators. Nhat and Ummah, Celestial colossi of absolute power, existed in opposition to one another, locked in a ceaseless struggle for eras. Each had immense hatred for the other, inherit by nature, and yet, neither knew what it was they were fighting for. Power had no say in the gods lives, strength meant nothing, and existence was futile.

On that realization, the gods created a agreement of harmony, both to end the worthless fighting, and to create meaning for existence. Together Nhat and Ummah constructed Utopia, the perfect celestial body. Deep green vegetation coated the surface of the planet, interrupted only by the sapphire blue seas. Wildlife roamed free in its cycle of life and death, and yet, something still seemed to be missing. Still meaningless. Life was a worthless cycle of mindless life and death. Utopia felt incomplete. Existence had no point.

But then it came. Man. Man is what was missing. An intelligent life that would be able to nurse and nurture the planet to become better, and work it to fruition. Nhat, the god of life, set out to create the perfect man. Optimal in both physique and nature to work his creation. Ummah joined in creating the mind and soul of man, each unique and individual, but with that he seeded each mind with a dormant darkness, only to be awakened when need be.

Years passed of harmony in Utopia, but before long, the darkness sprouted in one. Nkrumah's anger grew great towards his father, nurturing the darkness Ummah had placed inside. The seeds of evil grew within, leading him to murder his father who lay defenseless and naked. Nhat grew angry with Nkrumah's selfish act and cursed him to a life of isolation and agony, but it did not end. Mankind began to show signs of evil and disdain for both one another and their creators. Rage flowed through his veins towards man, and towards Ummah for creating their mind to be this way. He cursed Utopia, his prized creation, to an eternity of desolation for their misdoings

The green haven Utopia once was meant nothing now. Only weeds grew in the dry ground where the jungles and forests once were. Oceans of sand stretched the length of the once blue oceans. Many species pushed to extinction from scarce food, water, and predators. The haven became but a speck of insignificant dust adopting the name Scara, the scarce lands that were once a utopia.

Nhat's anger towards Ummah's actions set them into another timeless battle and some even say that if you gaze up into the night sky, you can still see the colossi locked in combat to this day.

***

Crimson light absorbed the gods, scalding pain shot through Feiin's body, retreating just as rapidly. Pressure built in the back of his skull, a minuscule nuance at first yet growing so intense any weaker man would not have withstood the hurt. Warm, fresh blood trickled from his nose, coating the already dry trail of blood near his mouth. The once spotless towel around his feet was no damp with splotches of blood. The scent of stale iron accosted his nose with the ferocity of Blood Hornet venom, constricting each shallow breath he took. Minuscule insects crept between the valley of gooseflesh on his arms and legs sending further chills rushing to and from his spine. His eyelids recoiled from one another like that of a baby's first glance into it's new life. Red, lifeless eyes gazed at nothing, like those of a man who knows his time has come.

Feiin lifted his head from the dirty sludge of trash and rat droppings the narrow and damp alleyway had accumulated. Dry mud caked the left of his body like caulk, cementing a human tile to the cobble paved road. A thin, dry burlap clothing sack clung to his damp body, attempting to keep him warm, but in reality doing the exact opposite.

Tender sunlight shone into the maw of the alley, slowly creeping through the shadows. People hustled to and fro in the streets; bulky men clad in gleaming plate and chain mail, ragged children, malnourished and sickly, bolted between the freest of adult's legs, pleading for any scraps of coins people would spare. Up above, the pub-mans wife threw open a window, emptying a foul bucket of other's excrements into the alleyway, painting the sky and the walks a rancid brown color. Rats poured into the alley, crawling from the sewers and festering crates and barrels, each one come for the daily feeding. The rats swarmed across Feiin, his body, mere feet from the splatter of crap inhabiting its new home in the road.