The Spire

My mother told me a story passed down from generation to generation about our tribe. The story of our old home world, Burrows. The one that sits in the night sky far above us. The story is one my sister and I would listen to all the time, of when our people lived happily on our own world. It wasn't perfect of course, there were wars, famine, natural disasters. Yet we had spanned across the world, erecting great cities and monuments of art. It was a story that soothed us, as though we had been children of Oblivion, like our parents, and our grandparents. We still longed to be back on that world, far from the Byllith and it's followers... and from the fear and torment that they bring. My sister and I had promised each other that we would return to our world in the sky, one day. When heroes arise to aid the children of Oblivion to help vanquish the Byllith once and for all and the Spire that stretches endlessly into the sky finally topples.