Things never go my way. Kicking the black mud on the ground was no fun, but there was nothing else to do so I kicked the black goo that covered the ground. It was everywhere, leaving us all in a constant state of gloom. Except for those who lived on the hill of course, those who were favored by the Warlord of this wretched place known as the Illuvies.
I've been alone all my life, so there was nothing more to do than to kick the mud and try to get beneath it. I was always unsuccessful in that endeavor though, I would just run out of patience and give up. I was walking through our desolate streets here down in Limbo. I looked up in the sky like I often did and I studied those far off heavenly planets. I wish I could travel to those green covered spheres, I wouldn't look back at this God-forsaken place once! I have no family and no friends, therefore no reason to turn back to this death hole. This mysterious place. Why would I be put here, why was I cursed to this terrible life in Limbo? It wouldn't be so bad if I lived on the hill, but I was about as far from the hill as possible. I wasn't special like those who lived on the hill, I wasn't like the Warlord but I didn't really want to be. He has a cruel man with too many wives.
All my life I've been an orphan just living day to day. I decided to think on my sad upbringing no more as I got closer and closer to the decrepit Illuvies' town center. I got close to that dark lair that belonged to the Warlord. I tried to focus on the bright planets in the sky while passing the ominous black home.
"Watch your step boy. Those planets aren't going anywhere." A guard from the Warlord's door taunted with advice that I didn't need. I had traveled this way many, many times and I knew it like the back of my hand. I was going to the warlock's house in the forest just outside of the Illuvies. That was my only escape from this black quagmire beneath my crumbling and derelict shoes.
Finally my feet hit the green grass and I ran as fast as my legs would take me trying to get to the warlock's house before it would be too late. For days he had been telling me the stories of those who had come before us here in Limbo. But everyday at six he would yawn and sigh and proceed to say, "The stories of old should not be told when one is tired." He would say.
"I am not tired." I would respond.
"But I am." He replied.
From where the sun was I could tell that it was three so getting to the Warlock's house in time to hear the rest of the story of Adrian the Warlord of Illuvies and Nectarios the King of Limbo was important. Nectarios was once a Warlord and leader of a town, Arbor, like Adrian is now of Illuvies, but when the old King known by the name of Oberon betrayed Nectarios' clan; Nectarios overthrew the King and made himself King of Limbo. He has never been challenged since then. The stories of the special ones who came before us fascinated me, I was addicted to these tales like sap from a tree.
I came to the Warlock's shadowy home in the forest and I walked in the door, it felt like home to me.
"Orpheus." I called out once inside.
"What have I told you about entering my home without knocking?" Orpheus said, he was sitting in his regular corner by the only window in the tiny home reading one of his big, old books.
"That I shouldn't." I said glancing down to the floor, confidence flowing from my body like it was a rushing river.
"Next time you knock or I will tell you no stories of your ancestors." Orpheus warned.
I nodded quickly, relieved he didn't want to send me away immediately.
"Come and sit at my feet, tonight we shall finish the stories of your ancestors." Orpheus told me pointing to the rug at his feet.
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Renaissance | ON HOLD
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