Prologue 3: The New Era

-The year 1298, Fall, The Dusk – Dreams and Wishes -

Three hundred years had passed since the start of the war. Three hundred years since the first duke wrote the first letters on this memoir.

A hundred years of recollection.

Three hundred years since the burning of Elvenfield and the World Tree - The cradle of the elves and fairies.

Three hundred years since the fall of the great Maximus – The capital of the human empire.

Three hundred years since the fall of the vast Orcus – The lands of the orcs.

Three hundred years since the downfall of Runemar – The glory of the crafting world. The home for the gnomes and dwarves.

Three hundred years since the ruin of Levastain – the kingdom of the beastkins.

Ah! Three hundred years since we all lost our homes.

Few streaks of white hair now flow on my hair. My face concealing a few lines of furrows. It made me feel a little peeved.

If I wrote and say only a few, I mean only a few okay?

I couldn’t help myself but get an itch to dye it out. I wanted to pinch away these white streaks of mine. Even so, I am always getting stopped by the dwarves and elves, saying it was a sign of great wisdom.

While the others claimed that it was classy and was beautiful. The representatives of the beastkins and orcs told me that these white hairs were good. It was a sign of authority, pointing at their long furs and beards.

Authority my ass! It is a responsibility. And it’s very heavy! I’m gonna torch the asses of these beastkins and orcs someday.

…

I knew long ago that I wasn’t as talented as that guy. Mastering the divine art was time-consuming and hard, needing both time and talent. As compared to me, he was a one of a kind freak.

He was a wonder of a generation. It's only thanks to him that we managed to buy time during our escape from the last bastion.

Mother time is also starting to catch up with me. Anyway, for people like me, age was a number.

Who am I kidding anyway?!

I still looked young and vibrant! Of course, not counting the few white streaks in my hair.

The population in the cave-systems grew like forest mushrooms. As time passed, the jolly kids kept popping out everywhere. Their energic voices flowing straight to my windows every morning.

The few years of peace contributed to the increase in our population. It hastened the need for more homes and goods.

So, I, along with the elders of the caves decided to expand the cave again. A project that bore us a new great view.

With the aid of the dwarves and gnomes, the subterranean dwelling expanded in size…again.

Yet, all the races longed for one more thing. They wished that their children could see the sun and the sky. The young ones need to know that the skies once belonged to them.

Thus, with everyone's help, we engineered and developed a way to make it come true. A project that gave me a renewed sense of purpose.

Above the roofs of the cavern now lies a massive hole connected to the dull sky outside. The aesthetics of the project satisfied the fairies and elves. It’s a massive enchanted architectural craft.

An art built through the joint efforts of all the races inside the cave-dwelling. Dwarves and gnomes praised it as the greatest architectural wonder of these forsaken times.

The great success proved that the races could work together for the greater good. The dwarven blacksmiths crafted the tools for the groundwork. The gnomes invented the runic blueprint for this ambitious plan.

The humans contributed their art and magic to serve as a foundation. The beastkins’ shamans inked their totems to strengthen the magic array. The arrays served as the protection of cave-dwelling.

The elves and the fairies deployed their mythic art to camouflage the cave-systems. While the Orcus tribe did the odd jobs that required manual labor and muscle power.

At the end of the construction, they forced this Duchess to name the giant hole in the middle of the dwelling. Well, this proves that this old woman is still popular among the young ones. I felt a little glad. I looked at the big hole in the sky, thinking of a nice name.

At first, I decided to name it the “big-big hole” as it should be. But due to the scathing looks given to me by the elves, fairies, dwarves, and the gnomes, I changed my mind.

I called it the “Heaven’s Stairway." It soothed the nerves of some grumpy old ladies and old foggies.

Bah! What’s wrong with calling it a big hole right?! It’s a pure and big hole in my eyes.

At least, before I die, this cave system would become a massive metropolis. A magical place where races co-exist as one big family. A place where the word race doesn’t even matter.

Glancing outside through my old window, I felt a breeze of fulfillment leaping out of my chest. I could see the little children of different races playing and laughing together.

The little ones carry no burden on their backs, running as fast as the world allowed them to. Mothers taking care of chores, gossiping about each other’s husbands and in-laws.

The men were working hard, budding seeds, planting crops, and growing livestock. It was a sight to behold. Never did I thought that the apocalyptic war could bring everyone together. Each one of them setting their differences aside.

I wasn’t able to see such a sight during my life in the last bastion. Not even during the time of the first duke based on the records.

In our time, there were only death, war, famine, and fear. As if our lives were only wilted grasses on the ground. Wilted grasses whose fate was death.

The gods might have seen our misery, granting us this peaceful solace. For this place was a great blessing for those who sought refuge that day. A miracle that the stubborn man never saw.

If only that stubborn old man settled with me here instead of staying in that bastion. My life would be bliss right now.

Maybe, I would have also seen our children who never came to be running in this peaceful cave.

…

Hah. Age tends to make women more emotional…

You know, as of late, I am having a repeating dream every night. It was a situation that I wished deeply in my heart. At first, I could only see a man waving at me, on another shore.

I thought it was just some good old nightmare. That some good ol’ reaper strolled into my dreams to give me a wave. Yet, as my dreams continued every night, the man’s visage started to become more and more vivid and familiar.

Wide shoulders of a bulky man, a long loose chestnut hair fluttering in the wind. His strong hands continuously waving at me, a cheeky grin masking his face.

So cheeky I want to slap it with all my strength. I want to send those pearly whites of his flying away on the other shoreline.

The dawn would then came, burdened with the litters of my dream. A few tears stained my face as I opened my eyes. Standing up from my creaking bed, I looked at the 'big-big hole.'

Then, I closed my eyes.

Even just for a few moments, the dream made a wish of mine come true.

I never felt so glad as I wake up for another day…

Thus, I wrote this passage to share a bit of my happiness. To the future generations.

We still have hope and a future.

In that, I always believe.

***

The ash-grey threads above the little boy’s head bobbed up and down. He watched the images appearing on his mind in silence. He felt like he was in the midst of every letter and at the center of every image. At first, the kid wanted to help the old grandpa in building the bastion. But he failed since he couldn’t touch anything.

Then during the fall of the last bastion, he wanted to tell the shiny man to go with the beautiful sister to the caves. Yet, neither his whispers nor shouts reached him.

He watched the beautiful sister writing every night on the old grandpa’s book with tears in her eyes. He wished to comfort the beautiful sister by petting her head like what his mom and dad do to him every time he was sad.

Yet, he couldn’t touch her.

…

He couldn’t.

Then... He finally understood.

He was a bystander, a watcher. A spectator in a place unknown. An observer with tied hands. He stood still, watching everything happening yet unable to touch anything. Unable to do anything.

***

-The year 1299, Spring, The Dusk – Weeping Heavens –

I was woken up by an ear-piercing noise from the skies above. The echoes were like peals of raging thunder. The deafening echoes surged throughout the whole cave-system. At first, we thought that it was only a storm passing by.

Yet, after looking above the Heaven’s Stairway, we saw something shocking. There were three pillars of light bursting out from the once dark sky.

Its luster purging the dimness of the starless nights, declaring dominion over the Dusk. Then, the night turned bright, painting the sky with hope and anticipation. A series of intense vibration drummed all over the caverns as spatial rifts appeared in the sky.

The roaming thunders sounded like marching armies.

I thought it was the end.

They finally found us.

I heard the rumbles and crackles originating from the rifts. I could not help but gasped as the hairs on my skin stood up due to instinctive fear.

I ordered an immediate evacuation.

I thought that the end was extending its hand towards everyone.

Hoping for a chance of survival, I, along with the other old ones immediately gathered. Together we formed a last stand. We cast the biggest magic shield we could produce in a short time. Wishing to at least give the little ones a few minutes to evacuate to another area.

All of a sudden, three circular domes emerged from the cloudy sky. The three pitch-black spheres blotted the skies. Thunder and lightning rumbled as it followed the spheres.

The air shook.

Soon, I saw three silhouettes controlling the very essence of gravity. Their dainty feet drifted in the air.

I gasped as I saw them floating in the skies.

They carried a divine presence. Still, sets of chains bounded their hands and feet. Their mouths gagged by a black mass. I could feel that those chains were very heavy. So heavy that I wouldn’t even be able to lift it away from the ground.

In a moment, I saw the heavy chains cracking as each of its pieces slipped down from the sky. Turning into moats of lights, the chains plunged to earth. It vanished before it could even reach the now hard and barren soil, the once-great land of Eudoria.

We finally saw what the pillars were.

They were three ladies.

I could see two of the three doll-like ladies, their eyes observing everything as they stood in the sky.

…

Garbed in a long white-satin robe, the first lady floated in the skies. Her eyes were bluer than the ocean. Dangling from her shoulders, the damsel’s light blue hair sashayed with the cold night breeze.

She was looking at me, no, she was looking at everybody. Her gaze carried a soft gentle whiff, like a mother looking at her beloved children. It felt like a warm embrace was coddling me, evoking beads of tears to fall from my aged eyes. It felt like I saw my long-dead parents from her gaze.

I looked around and saw other oldies sniffing along with me. I knew it! It wasn’t only me. There was something more in her than meets the eye.

Damn, I almost thought that this old lady’s age was acting up again.

The second damsel was a little girl clad in white armor. I couldn’t help but think that she looked silly in such attire. Her eyes were like piercing red rubies in harmony with her long crimson hair. Unlike the lady in satin, she carried a passionate aura.

Her presence was like a burning coal in a long winter night, heartening and soothing. She was like a burning hearth on a cold snowy night. She was an unending bundle of warmness that I so wished to hug and cuddle before I sleep.

I would love her to be the daughter I never had.

Unlike the first two, the last dame had more chains and manacles sealing her movement. Her eyes were also covered by a thick black cloth as if preventing her from seeing something. A few more minutes passed. The chains and the black cloth sealing her vanished, turning into flakes of light.

It freed the lady from her captivity.

Her eyes were like clear purple lilac blooming in the night. It contained images of innocence and deep love… as well as pain. Her deep-black hair whirled along with her purple silken flared gown.

The moment her bindings dissipated, the other two cast their moist gazes at her. Their lips slipped as if they were trying to find words of comfort. Yet, they were unable to, their eyes dropped into a corner, sorrow and forlorn weighing on their gaze.

"Three hundred years…"

Echoing throughout the heavens, those were the first words we heard from the lilac lady. Her tears sliding from her cheeks like rain. It carried the burden of the three centuries of waiting and helplessness.

Upon saying that, we could all tell that she was weeping.

Hearing her peals of sobs, I couldn’t help but gasp. My heart felt tight and full. Our hearts were acknowledging the release of a hundred years. A hundred years of frustration, anger, and helplessness.

The feelings I locked deep within my soul bubbled up to my eyes.

My old tears rekindled by her, my memories flashing before my eyes like it was a few days ago. My 155-years’ worth of memories drizzled in my mind. From the laughing young ones of the cavern, to the hard-working cave-dwellers. The always hopeful elders, to the warmth of my mom’s hug, my dad’s big back, and that buffoon’s hearty laughs.

The drizzling seconds, the reminiscences passed by like pitter-patters of rain.

…

I cried…

No, we cried. We felt released from our dark prisons, the ones within our hearts. The prison is called “The Dusk”.

The lady’s tears swept my old burdens away.

She then uttered in a firm voice. Two sentences that I would never forget. With power and strength, she uttered.

Thus, I decided to share it with you, my successors. The last miracle of our era. For it was the end of that age as well as the start of a new one. It was a sad whisper and a frightening roar.

The first one was…

“I’m sorry I am late.”

The second one was…

“Let the Darkness Tremble!”