Chapter One

“Mother, mother look there, something is falling from the sky! Might it be a falling star?”

“No, my child, that is the third of the moons, for there in the skies the gods are at war and the Third is the wars first victim.”

Out of “War above our world”, Author unknown

Do you hear them call? Those, who are trapped, down there in the dark?

Do you hear their whisper? Their cries, their pleas?

Salvation is what they are waiting for.

Did no one dare to tell them that their prayers are futile?

Excerpt out of “Desperate Voices, down there in the dark”, Author unknown

Born anew we were, out of the ashes we came, we who survived the thirds fall.

A thousand years had passed, a thousand years in which we lived in the deepest dark. We had saved ourselves into the body of our world, but under the influence of moon and darkness, we had changed. Finally, freed of our banishment we stepped out into the light of the two siblings. Blinded by their brilliant shine I closed my eyes, one hand held up high to block the merciless gaze of the two moons. When I could see again, after what felt like hours, I looked about and saw that humanity was no more. For the world of our ancestors lay in rubble and those around me had hair ashen colored and skin as white as snow. Claws as black as coal, and fangs, oh gods those fangs.

The moon had eradicated those who had called themselves humankind and brought forth it had tireless predators.

Excerpt out of “the book of migration”, written by Istral Kando, first Lord of the Will.

A girl

Village near the Moon rift, Edge

Year 2367af (after fall)

Ankira was lost in thought. As it was often the case you could already see her from afar, her small form sitting right at the edge of the rift. Her legs dangling over the darkness, her head cocked to the side as if listening to songs and melodies only she could hear. A hand came up to swipe away a strand of white hair which was dancing in the light of the moons. Her eyes however stayed focused on the everlasting black which was just below her feet.

The great rift, the third moon had created as he fell down onto the world, had become something of an obsession for Ankira. While the general consensus was that being in its direct vicinity was dangerous and foolhardy, Ankira was pulled back to it over and over again. There were stories told about what lived in the dark. Tales of beings who had become something unrecognizable, twisted images of what they had once been. Maybe it were their songs she heard Ankira mused. The songs of those who had lived here before, the songs of those the third had taken with him into the deep. Closing her violet eyes, head tilted slightly to the left, she listened, and there they were.

The voices of old women who whispered of ancient and forbidden things, their voices oh so gentle, so soft. The high, almost shrill laughter of children, who called for her to come down and play. Search for us they said, here in the dark, let us play hide and seek.

And in between, she could hear the screams, wails of soul deep desperation. Crying for a future lost, for having their lives ended so prematurely, or maybe, maybe they just cried because it was the one thing they now had done for centuries, for so long and all reasons for the why were long forgotten.

Together those voices formed a chorus, haunting, otherworldly, and beautiful all at once.

And stories they told. Whispering, taunting, screaming they told Ankira about a great many things, waiting for her, down there in the dark.

Ankira blinked and the voices disappeared. The wind became the wind again, no screaming, and no whisper to hear. Only the raging winds shrieking voice as they cut themselves on the cliffs below. Ankira sighed, naturally she knew that there were no monsters and dead souls down there. After all, she thought to herself, I am already ten moons old. The real danger, and reason as for why the adults would generally forbid the children to go outside of the village and near the rift was not because of the monsters who hid in the dark. The reason were the dust storms, which oftentimes came without any forewarning. Letting herself fall onto her back she stared at the dark blue night sky.

Dust storms as Ankira had found out herself were a terrifying thing to be trapped in. If you found yourself in one, without a building near you to offer protection, death was almost certain. For the storm would cover the whole world with its fine powder. Blinding everyone in it, so far that not even the own hand before the face could be seen. Of course, there were those who had enough luck to find even blind a way to safety but those were truly rare.

But even though people feared the random danger they presented; dust storms were still

exceptionally rare. Only once in her young life had she witnessed the terrible danger those storms were, for people and animals alike.

Her big violet eyes following an enormous and rather fluffy cloud Ankira remembered.

It had been the day of the festival of the two moons. The two moons day as the villagers called it, was the day that followed onto the day of the Thirds fall. A day celebrated for over two thousand years by now. It was in the remembrance of those who had survived the terror, the death the third sibling had brought over the world. A day which under normal circumstances would have been filled with silent laughter and the smells of exotic cookery. Children running around, hunting each other in fun and game. And at first, it had been all that and more, for the people of Edge knew how to hold a celebration. The desert's life was a life of hardships, and so every opportunity for a happy get together was taken with ardor.

But on that particular day, it had not been a happy occurrence. Instead, it had turned out to be a day of horrors and one of loss.

The storm had appeared without any sign, without any forewarning. In one second a gentle wind danced through the streets of Edge. The deserts blue Sand followed suit and together they followed a strange and yet oddly harmonious looking choreography. A many merry people moved to silent singing and you could see the happiness in their faces, their movements. On this one day, they could let go completely, forget about the hardships of the desert life and just be content with their existence.

But then the sky had become dark and though just a moment before the moons had shined down on the world, enveloping all beings that were, now darkness reigned. And thus, the terror began.

And the before dancing winds became a raging torrent whipping mercilessly through the streets of the small village. Sand and Dust as blue as the sea itself took on all there was to see, and the previous happy and singing people of Edge had started screaming in panic and dread. Shoving and pushing, blind and imprisoned by their fear people fell over each other in their desire for safety.

Her Mother, Asria had grabbed her and then had started running, pulling Ankira with her. Ankira knew that her Mother must have guessed where the next building was, for shelter it was her mother had found for them. She had been pushed into the entryway of a house, shortly followed by her mother.

Enveloped in her mother’s arms she stood there, trembling in fear and shaking with adrenalin.

And while she stood there, she heard them.

Those who had not found safety, those who had been abandoned, by life’s luck, and the people they had lived with for years.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Screams, those screams Ankira would never forget. Screams, who fell silent so fast, that she thought them imagined. But she had known that the sands just had found their way into the eyes and lungs of its victims. And so, the with panic filled screams disappeared and, in its place, where the coughing whispers of dying beings, a whisper that echoed in her head, a thousand times. And when she believed it too much, believed herself drowning in the sorrow, the dread, it stopped.

And Silence reigned for the winds as well had died down as fast as they had come.

The first step out of the entryway had been like the step into a different world. Never would she forget it. Streets and buildings had all been powdered in the dust and sands of the Moons desert, softly shimmering in the sibling’s gentle lights, had it covered everything. Creating a picture of an almost magical beauty, and if it had not been for the bodies, she would have been captured by it. But there they were, the bodies, husks, in the streets they lay, hands clawed, mouths opened in a silent and endless screams.

Blinded and without hope, they had ended, some just a few steps away from the shelter which would have brought safety.

Shaking her head Ankira pushed away the thoughts, and memories of that awful day and sat up.

It was no good as her mother would say to get stuck in the past. Those who were prisoners of the past would not be able to move into the future with clear eyes.

Ankira did not really know what her mother meant by that but it sounded smart and it was her mother who had said it so it had to be something of importance. Nodding to herself she jumped up, wiping her hands on her breeches.

Raising her head, her eyes moved over the blackness of the rift and further yet till she saw nothing specific just the outlines of mountains in the distance, as high as the skies themselves. The Wiseman of the village had called them the Bayo High Jungles, which to the north would go over into the Sky mountains and would fall away far in the south to the Basker swamps. And beyond those mountains lay the floating islands of the Tareler High lords, who ruled each over one sixth of Tarel. She smiled to herself. One day I will see all of those lands myself. Right now, those thoughts were nothing but mere dreams, yet she was sure of it. And looking at her gleaming eyes you could see it, her resolve, strong and steady it was.

Turning away from the rift and the mountains beyond, she stepped onto the street which wound itself over just a few dunes till it reached the village of Edge.

Fighting herself a way up to the top of the first dune, Ankira stopped for a moment, her eyes on the blue desert, admiring how the light of the moons lay over everything, a land of shadows and a land of the cold night. And there, just ahead she could already see the flashing beam of the signal tower. A beacon in a land of sameness, where one dune looked like the next.

With a skip in her step, Ankira moved on, leaving a trail of blue dust in her wake.

Ankira was quite sure that even without the signal tower's light she would be able to figure her way through the sands of the desert. Being born here meant that even children learned how to navigate it effectively. And she counted herself as one of the most adept among her peers.

It took not long till she came to the entrance of the village she called home. There it was coming up right after the last of the dozen or so dunes which separated it from the great rift. It was not as big as some of the other rift villages. Just around a hundred houses had gathered around a big, normally empty place with a well in the middle. The reason for its rather small size was because of its position at the great rift. As it lay right in the middle, it took caravans considerably more effort and resources to get to Edge.

Most caravans took the long way around, to the villages that were positioned closer to the border of the desert, in the north and the south.

Here water and opportunities to put up a camp in the shadows of trees were more readily available than in the middle of the desert.

But once a month, for the time of three days, the caravans traveled to their village to do trading.

Ankira loved those rare days, it was not just that she got to see and feel so many new people, merchants, guards, and others but also that many of those who had taken on the journey through the desert brought news from all over the world.

And so, with one last footfall Ankira’s whole world transformed, from the desert’s emptiness, she stepped into the midst of bustling life. Villagers and travelers alike, some on foot, others on tamed desert lizards, scurried through the streets of Edge.

For a moment she was stunned by the onslaught of emotions that ran through the village, she was always surprised anew by how different it was. The people of Edge did not fully control their emotions either but here she knew everyone and was acquainted with all the minds around her.

But this many new people in the village always meant new, and unfamiliar minds as well.

Though her mother had shown her how to limit her mental range and so she could control the flow of feelings and thoughts that tried to flood her mind.

Ankira moved along the main street, here and there dodging people, eyes big and all the while she was watching, so many new faces to see, and stories to hear.

Ultimately, she came to the market plaza in the midst of the village. A variety of things were sold in those few days when the caravans came, art made out of rock from the third moon, exotic food, meat only found in the desert, warm clothing for travelers against the cold of the desert, and many more.

Here, hands sometimes gestured hectically, while other stands had people negotiating in quiet voices, almost whispering, and there, Ankira stopped, already having moved halfway through the bazaar and stared.

There they were, Desert Walkers, send here by Lords and Ladies of the Will.

Ankira recognized them without any doubt. Not just their mannerisms but also their clothing stood out.

She herself, just as all the desert people wore breeches and a woolen cloak in different shades of blue, the color of the desert, the Walkers though wore colors in all variations of the rainbow or so it seemed at least in her eyes. Ankira had to snicker. They sure look funny enough; she thought to herself while watching. She didn’t think it possible for them to be more visible than they were now. If they all look so silly in the cities how can they even look at each other without laughing out loud; it seemed not possible. She shrugged, and dismissing that train of thought she recalled why she had stopped for watching them in the first place.

They had to have the gift of the Will. Here in the desert, most people had lost the ability to influence others with their will, their mind, and only the most basic of all gifts had stayed, the one of silent speech. But while the use of silent speech was something of a required curtsey in the cities, here in the desert people did as they wanted. So, the complete silence that seemed to hover around them let them, even more, stand out. They stood just there, silent and unmoving, just staring at old Homer, the village's dust trader. Red eyes cold, no emotion mirroring, no feelings escaping. Ankira reached out, her mind stretching, bit by bit till she could feel the pressure. Since she had found her gift at the age of seven, she had made a game out of reaching out and seeing if anyone could feel her as she could feel them. And as of yet, no one has ever felt me, I wonder why that is, maybe I’m too silent? A small giggle escaped her before she concentrated again on her task. Too silent.

She could feel them, a stream of thoughts coming and going like she imagined waves would come in and then fall away again. Waves that rolled against each other, a fight without words, a battle that only used one's will.

Old Homer was one of the oldest people in the village, with his one hundred and thirty years, and he was one of the few who possessed the gift. That was also the reason why he was the one who sold all of the crystal dust the village produced in the month.

Though Ankira had never actually felt him using his gift, except in the days of the caravans.

Then she felt him breaking. Old Homers will receded and the Walkers mind pushed forward, like a snake. He was fast, in the blink of an eye, he asserted his dominance, then shortly afterward his will pulled back, in good courtesy she presumed. While it was not forbidden to use one's will to force other people to let them do as one wished, it was seen as something that was frowned upon while negotiating a trade agreement. The Walker who had dueled old Homer nodded in silent respect, mirroring, Homer nodded back. Then he took a bag of crystal dust from under his table, handing it to the man who had fought him. After laying the agreed on payment on the table the Walker and his two identical clothed companions turned away and started walking in the direction of the village's inn. Ankira withdrew her mind. It was truly fascinating to watch people fight in this way.

She turned around, her thoughts still on the contest she had felt, and started moving again through the stands. As her eyes fell one last time on the Desert Walkers, her violet eyes met impenetrable red ones.

She froze for a split second.

One of the Desert Walkers had stopped walking, had turned around, and was now searching with his eyes, and his will she assumed for something or rather someone.

She pulled her eyes away, clammed her mind shut, and started sprinting in a blind panic and pure exhilaration. Through rows of stands, she ran, in between people she wove, till she came to a side street which led back into the jumble that were the streets and alleys of Edge.

Leaning back against the wall of a near house she took a deep breath.

“That was close, it seemed almost like he felt me. But how could that be, the only way he could have would have been if he …………; closing her eyes, covering her face with her hands she realized what must have happened. Of course, I’m so dumb, obviously, they look for people who might try to interfere in the ongoing duel!” A small giggle started, which in turn transformed itself into a full grown laugh, that shook her small body and took nearly a full ten minutes to die down.

Then taking another deep breath she pushed off the wall and started walking further into the labyrinth, the narrow alleys of Edge were, in search of the house she and her mother, which held the name of Asria lived in.