The library was devoid of noise and people; its books remained untouched and dusty upon the shelves. The halls were apportioned with an adequate amount of books; my family has collected a lot over the years. There is a whole section devoted to texts that shouldn’t even exist anymore, from titles such as “Society” which pays truth to our government’s negligence and my personal favorite, “The Ballad of Shattered Souls”, an allegory that dates back to the shattered states. The cover is one of woe, but is also the only one without dust bunnies on every page.
“The starless sky shows our plight,
Among the days of new and old,
The smog filled clouds will be our blight,
He is one we shall not behold.
For the tyrant’s hand holds us still,
And the futures of all those come,
We shall strike the hand for our free will,
But freedom of all costs the future of some.
So let the starless sky show our plight,
For though the road will be long and hard,
We'll stand together, strong and right,
We'll find a way, and never be marred.
Death be upon those who dare,
For life may guard those who care”
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The poem goes on, in many different forms, all featuring the same fate of the shattered states. As the legend is told, a general rose up quickly and ended the free-thinkers quicker. Not much is known about the general, only his name Ventriliquis Rane the namesake for Rane Academy. They present his feats as a fact, even if it came from legends of new and old.
Rane academy is the center of all learning for all of the nobles even along the countryside in Zyphris. It was founded by Ventriliquis around the time he finalized our borders. This academy holds together what would be our warring citizens from skirmishing on our streets. Commoners are accepted to the same standards nobles are, however their difficulty comes from the lack of financial support provided.
On campus there are many facilities to make use of from the botanical garden to the arcane wellspring. The numerous institutes give students a chance to perform hands-on experiments instead of sitting in a lecture hall all day. They do have a large library but the number of books is inadequate to say the least. It lacks the books that were once burned, despite having the power to hold them the headmaster still chooses not to; maybe under fear of the backlash, or just their personal preference. School is usually every day until summer puts it on break for a couple of months. Today, however, is a special occasion, the Lantern Rite.
Everyone gathers in the city square to light a lantern that floats up into the sky. It carries the souls up to the moon where they may lie in perfection itself. It is meant as a day of sorrow, of remembrance, but why should people cry? Even those who were dragged into the abyss would hate to see the ones they care about cry. None should wish woe upon their own family of their own free will, yet many still do. There are many thoughts on what heaven is or could be; no one knows for sure what being dead is truly like. Many people still speculate, but all their claims branch off the original myth.
Heaven is the weal of the world, a city of perfection. In the central dogma everyone has a chance to go there, but at the same time everyone has sin. Everyone serves time in the abyss, even if it's for a single lie. Devoid of all light but absent of darkness, the abyss can only be described as a place of complete sensory deprivation. You would be locked into your own thoughts for minutes that may feel like years. Decades may pass in an instant, your mind eating away at itself, leaving only a shell of what once remained. People don't live perfectly because they want to–its because they have to. It becomes this cycle of going back and forth between worlds, the insanity slowly driving you to commit worse and worse acts, until you never return.
"The Hell Called Heaven" depicts this fallacy, but days after its publication the author was found dead, supposedly lamenting his sins. Almost all the copies of that book were destroyed; the only two that I know of live in the royal archives and my family's library, the Dansworth Library. The church does a lot to keep lips sealed, to maintain their position of power. Many see their heresy, but none have the will to call them out. All who have tried ended up like the books. After all, ashes look like ashes, human or not. The church hides their secret well; the secret of our cruel world.
The royal family keeps a close connection with the church, whether it be to keep eyes on them or to do make them do their dirty work. The King often uses his connections to protect himself from criticisms and scrutiny. They never try anything without the other's advice first, and their collaboration is the only thing left that maintains their power. The Lantern Rite doesn't truly honor the dead–it only serves as a catalyst to renew their relationship.