Few in my tribe liked to speak of our history, but we had once been known as the Marotai; a tribe spread out over most of what is now known as the Desolate Wastes. Our cities once wonderfully expansive settlements now reduced to dust by gods and time.
Few in my tribe know out history, they chose to be ignorant of the wealth we once had; and the divine punishment that took it away. I know. I know all of out history. My tribe picked me to bear the burden of our history, to know why the aeluhar are hated so by the gods, and Why our lands lay barren and lifeless.
Long ago the Marotai ruled Eyginia, a large nation that is known now as the Desolate Wastes. It had been a nation full of wealth and wonders. No one knows exactly why the gods hate us so. Some stories speak of heathens trying to climb up to the gods realm; while others say it was just our time. I will tell you now the truth, the truth of why we were punished.
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The sun rose over the lands of Eyginia, the sky slowly fading from its brilliant hues of yellow to a much more tame blue. The previous day's rainfall had coated the lush green hills in a soft mist that burned off quickly in the morning heat. As the sun continued its ascent high into the sky, the world started to wake; birds started to tweet, and the great civilization of Eyginia awoke. Slowly at first, just a few stragglers peddling their wagons to and from destinations; eventually street venders began putting out their wares, and crowds of people slowly gathered. The shades of sun rise faded away, leaving only bright blue skies and thousands of clamoring voices behind.
The streets were clogged with crowds, each holding a small scarf to their face to shield from the ever constant sands that were swept into the city. Deep under the city lay a network of rooms and tunnels, some glowed brilliant shades of the rainbow; while others lay dim, their dimensions laying barren of whatever mysterious occurrence caused the others to glow.
At the end of these tunnels, sat a throne made of dark glass, its twisting angles drilling deep into the rock that surrounded it. It pulsed gently with light, pulsing in waves away from what looked to be an old and broken man. His skin was pulled too tight over his bones, as if someone had sucked all the fat out of him and left only vacuum; and his once glorious hair hung in strands of moldy, damp stained wires.
The mans head snapped upwards, his empty eye sockets locking onto one of the tunnels that lead away into the darkness. He seemed to be waiting for something. Soon enough, echoes of footfalls bounced down the hallway. A small shadowed figured emerged, carrying a cloth sack that seemed to ooze a thick red substance. Drip. Drip. Drip. The shadow emerged, revealing herself to be a young girl as she approached the glass throne.
"My god. I have brought the sacrifices for you. Perjir hearts, freshly harvested. This should contain enough magic for you to ascend finally. Your dreams are complete. You will rule the world, leading Eyginia to immortality." The young girl held the sack above her head as she kneeled, her head bent low enough to graze her toes in a sign of reverence and respect for her deity. The shrunken man stared at her, his silence bearing more weight than entire mountains as the seconds dragged on into eternity. Finally, he parted his cracked lips and spoke.
"Thank you, my child. Your toils will be remembered when I ascend. For now I have just one last thing to ask of you." The mans voice grated like sand against glass, scratching the girls ears as it filled the room; seemingly growing grander and more confident with each passing word.
"Anything my god. Just ask and I will give it to you, for you." The girl looked up, her innocent gaze taking in the man in his entirety, tendrils of the glass pierced into his sides, and long dried blood oozed from the wounds. His face held a timeless look, as if he had been around for centuries before the girl.
"All I need is you. The heart that beats inside you is powerful. Its blood descended from long dead lines. With your life and these hearts I will be complete. I will be a god." The girl did not have time to do anything more than summon a look of surprise and horror before glass tendrils erupted from the ground, piercing her and the sack.
The tendrils begin pulsing brightly, drawing the life from both the girl and the hearts. They took everything, draining until there was nothing more than dust left. The room glowed brighter and brighter; until everything was coated in a sickly green hue. After a few minutes the glowing died down.
The stones that made up the walls and floor glowed with a soft orange glow, their surfaces drooping and sagging like melting ice. In the place where the man had sat on the glass throne there stood a figure that shone with the life of a thousand dying suns. The light and heat slowly left, leaving what looked to be a statue made of glass and stones that looked like running water.
The statue moved its arm, glass crinkling and grinding against itself as it slowly pulsed. A large crack sounded and bits of the glass fell off, revealing a softer and more fluid substance beneath. With each movement and crack the statue moved easier, its stilted movements becoming more human. At last the statue stood surrounded by a pile of the strange pulsating glass, its- no. His figure now held tall and oozing confidence. With great lumbering strides he walked out into the maze of tunnels, each foot step leaving behind a strange liquid that seemed to grow into more of the strange glass.
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