SRT: A new day

The book of a million secrets

The grey, ashen dust of the Arcanic plains rushed its way onto a wary traveller's white sand-breaker that was wrapped around his head. A heavy storm was blowing up the thick layer of ash as it so often did. The traveller kept setting one foot out in front of another, struggling to do so much as move, let alone see where he was going. 

There was something haunting about the lonesomeness an ash-storm could give one. These ashes had once been the remains of a forest, or a jungle, or a great mountain, before an ancient dragon came and burnt it to ashes. Great, great heaps of ashes, like a black desert of lost possibilities. A desert that was the only remaining testament of what had once perhaps been a great civilisation, now reduced to smouldering ashes. War had waged, between gods and dragons. Everything else either helped, or was caught in the middle. Regardless of their position, all would be burnt. And here, one man remained, wandering, knowing not what else he might do. Even his own god had rejected him, sending him out into the unknown, to teach him a lesson in humility. To teach him that Cogniti was his one true lord.

His mind lingered on matters of the past. He had been in the very hall of Cogniti when he openly defied the god in a public display of hatred. A denunciation of the war and a desperate call for him to halt the war-effort. But regardless of Riachi's word, the citadel stayed a tactical position and therefore too important.

In the remnants of a five-thousand year long war, twenty-five thousand years before the start of our story, Riachi wandered aimlessly here in search for an answer to a question he was yet to ask himself. Knowing not if such an answer quite so even existed. Yet in this barren wasteland, his foot caught something of value. It made contact with stone, rather than ash. In any other situation, this would be a negligible change. But here, it was one of epic proportions. Riachi stopped himself, kneeling down to uncover the smooth stone below his feet. The storm helped him, uncovering much on its own accord by blowing it away before his hands could even touch the ground.

A rune, in a language Riachi did not understand, in a time where but one language existed. The old draconic, the language of the gods. Yet something had carved these runes in a way that was indescribable to the young Riachi. Questions raised into his head, yet they were answered with only more. "What are these? Who made these? Why are they here? How were they not destroyed?" All questions he would soon find answers to that he did not want. The moment his hand touched the rune, it lit up, shining into Riachi's eyes with blinding light. A light that pierced his mind, leaving him to collapse onto the ground.

He came to in an environment much unlike the one he had first been in. A circular room, cold and made with precise architecture of an otherworldly nature. More metallic than stone. The walls arched over into a dome above him. But the architecture of the room was far from what Riachi cared about. From his position, with his head plastered against the ground, his eyes were still filled with the same light he had been exposed to from the start. His eyes locked onto the floating crystal at the midst of the room.

The crystal was massive, many times larger than himself. A dark violet, levitating in the air. It's edges seemingly clawing at the fabric of reality itself as it bent towards the crystal that, by any stretch of the meaning, transcended any conventional idea of power. There were streaks of magic, manifesting themselves in illuminating letters and symbols, swirling around the crystal. All languages that would be displaying the same meaning. One word swirled to, in the only language Riachi could understand.

Awaken

With little left in terms of options, Riachi raised himself to his feet. Finally, he could vocalise the questions that had grown within him. "What... What are you?"