Fan Fiction ❯ Dragon Blade ❯ Chapter 01: Dead Planet ( Chapter 1 )

The wind stood still, a silence lasting centuries. A planet grew bare, hurtled through space, alone and cold. Scars of its last great conflict penetrated deep into dry soil. A near desert planet. Hard to believe that wonderful, great creatures lived on a place like that.

 

However, great races `had' existed there, flourished even. One race reached their pinnacle of strength and intelligence. Other peoples thought of them as gods and goddesses. After a while, this race began to think the same exact thing. Idiots. Pure arrogance, plain and simple. History even shows us that, time and time again, arrogance and power do not mix, at all. They fell, like everyone else that gets too full of themselves. It wasn't even sad or a pity. It just happened. A consequence. The effect from a dumb cause…

 

…But, it goes without saying that a tragedy had occurred. In fact, it is the reason that this once wonderful planet had turned dry and hot. Creatures of myth; great, powerful, and magical; disappeared with no reason or evidence of ever existing. Beasts born of fire, warm and proud; water, calm and fluid; ice, cold but direct; lightning, quick and true; air, free with joy; earth, sturdy and strong. The creatures born of the very essence, the core, of the planet, had been lost. With them, a long known rule of the universe; a very fine, a very delicate balance exists, a balance that can be swayed with the slightest breath of change. With this understanding came the responsibility to keep the balance in check, using their might and magic's to protect the planet from harm. Then, a deep darkness arrived. Chaos destroyed balance. The great race and great creatures fell, unable to stop the decline of their great society, their world.

 

Dying trees and planets with their dying animals remained, a harsh crimson sun blotting the last of their life. Great storms of dust swept across the land, ripping skin from a thinning skeleton. In the last few forests, the last few animals would gather, searching and fighting for whatever remained, devouring anything they can, all in the sake of their survival. In the next year or two, nothing would survive.

 

Another day, on a dead planet.

 

The man stood to his feet, rubbed his starved stomach. Soon, he'll end up like the ones before him. Soon, his story would end, and with it, the hope of this planet returning to its norm. It had all seemed like a dream, a fantasy of a young adult who wished to change how everything worked. He soon learned, in his many years of life, that nothing ever comes that easily.

 

Now, he wished for the largest game animal he could find. After all, it is always better to die with a full stomach.

 

Leaping off a solid piece of metal, he walked out of the indistinct city, back into a forest. He expected to find some fruit, possibly a rodent or two. He didn't even get that.

 

The cold embrace of night approached, the setting sun turning the sky red, orange, purple, black. He spent too much time day dreaming. A groan arose from his throat as he gave up his search, heading toward his makeshift camp. It wasn't much. In fact, his home was an old shrine, built to honor the planet's spirit. The shrine fell into disrepair, as the elements tore it to pieces. The man tried to return it to its once beautiful state, but found it impossible.

 

The entire structure composed of nothing but dirt, stone, and living trees. The creators of this shrine (the man's ancestors) knew of a great power. This power allowed the user to bend the planet to their wills, shaping it with a mere thought. Using the Elements, the shrine rose from the ground, forming a single large dome and eight pillars. The eight pillars had been formed by eight of the strongest trees in the entire planet. Each pillar, it has been said, represented each of the ruling elemental powers.

 

These eight unique trees, taken from many unique regions of the continent, had seen better days. The roots tried its best to seek out the last remains of moisture, finding the underground as bare as the above ground. The shrine was dying.

 

The man averted his eyes, ashamed of its decay. He could do nothing, however. He was, after all, a single being. Not even his race could reverse what had been done to his home, this planet.

 

Food in hand, he approached the single door, made of smoothest stone in existence. Curved into this stone, ancient words of a forgotten oath. He did not bother to read it. Placing his hand upon the door, this man searched his being. Eyes closed, he blocked out his hunger. In his mind, he formed three flames. He could never tell the color, or if they were even hot. With his imaginary hand, he reached out for the flame in the middle. The door gave away to his touch, blown inside like dust.