Beneath the stars as the red moon glows

Beside the shores where lake water flows

The midday sun beats down upon the sands like a thousand fires burning as one. A barren wasteland as far as the eye can see. The dunes of sand flow like the waves of the ocean. Yet, everything is still there is no movement across this vast desert, it’s as if it is frozen in time. The silence is deafening, no audible sound shall ever cross this hellish plane. It is an eerie silence, the kind that drives a sane man to madness. Screams of the fallen are lost in the void of eternity. Everything is still, almost too still, a foreboding kind of stillness. Suddenly, the stillness is shattered by a massive earthquake, sand flies everywhere in a maelstrom of chaos. It’s almost as if the whole world has been overturned. Slowly, the dust clouds settle, and the desert seems to be at rest once more. Everything is still, the dunes restored to their former glory, but something is different. A muffled sound breaks the monotony of the muteness. The sound is barely audible at first, but then it steadily becomes louder. It sounds like millions of grains of sand rubbing together at once. It is almost worse than complete silence, a monotonous grinding that never ceases. Louder and louder it becomes growing in decibels every second. It becomes apparent that the sound is coming from beneath the endless desert. Then as if someone had pulled the plug from the drain of the ocean, the desert begins to shift. Slowly, a funnel begins to form as the sound grows louder and louder. Thousands of sand people smashed together. Their bones snapping making a sickening crunch, as their organ are popped like balloons. No fluids escape from the carcasses, no only dust escapes as they are sucked into their doom. Deeper, and darker, the funnel becomes, swallowing billions of sandy souls. The sound is deafening, babies crying as their sandy heads are bashed open. The mothers can only close their dry eyes as the screams of their offspring sing a lullaby of oblivion. The desert has shrunk to just a few thousand grains of sand. Slowly, the sound begins to fade; the sand people are nearly extinct. Finally, the last one falls, he tries to grab on to something, but the slick walls are like glass and he falls screaming into the darkness. Gone, their entire race, wiped out by the genocidal jaws of fate. Beneath the void, possibly in another dimension, the desert is restored to its former glory. It would stay that way for centuries, millenniums even, until the hourglass was overturned once more.

Watching the hourglass, hah, it seemed almost ironic to the old man. He was in the closing hours of his life, and all he could do was watch the sands slip through the hourglass. So little time, he thought, yet there was so much to do. Would Matteo succeed in his task, and become the hero of Langriel, or would he fall, and let the shadows of darkness cover the land. As always, time would be the soothsayer in this tale as it has since the beginning of life. With that, Cyrus flipped the hourglass once more, and began to look back on his life.

Cyrus was born raised in a town called Sanvel, on the southern coast of the country of Langriel. His parents were not rich by any means, but they made a decent life by running a vineyard. The breeze from the ocean was the ideal climate for growing the grapes. It was their dream to one day give the vineyard to their oldest son Cyrus. Yet, Cyrus’ road would lead down a different path, and the farm was given to their only other child Cyril. Cyril, who was Cyrus’ younger sister, was the one to inherit the vineyard. This was obviously not the custom at the time, but they had no other heir to pass the farm down to. It wasn’t that Cyrus didn’t like the vineyard; in fact he spent many long summer days running through the vines and eating grapes as a child. Cyrus had an interest in traveling the world, and also an interest in various plants and minerals. When Cyrus was of age he was sent to the Academy of Alchemy in Cyrondill which was the capital of Langriel. He studied there for five years, and when he was 20 he set out on his own to travel the continent. He was known far and wide for his knowledge in the art of alchemy and eventually became the headmaster of the academy. He taught there for several years until one fateful fall night.

"Cyrus, I’m here!" Matteo yelled as he rushed up the stairs. Cyrus was startled as the past was shattered by his young apprentice. "Sorry, I’m late but mother wouldn’t let me go until I had breakfast," Matteo mocked in a motherly voice as he sat down and unloaded his bag.

"No matter young one," Cyrus chuckled in a hoarse voice. "You know she’s right, you didn’t grow into such a strong young lad by skipping meals."

"Yeah, I guess she does make some pretty good sweetcake," Matteo agreed. "Oh, which reminds me, mom sent a piece for you," Matteo said reaching into his bag.

"Send Cassandra my thanks Matteo," Cyrus smiled thinking of her award winning sweet cake. "The cooks at the Academy have been trying to emulate her cooking for years," he said taking the cake from Cyrus.

"Well Cyrus, what shall I gather for you before lunch?"

"Well," Cyrus said swallowing the first bite of cake. "I am running low on healing potion, I sold my last batch to the armory, it seems that this year’s trainees are more prone to wounds," Cyrus smirked taking another bite.

"Shall I collect flax seeds and sun-poppy root, or do you want something a little stronger?" Matteo asked watching Cyrus enjoy his cake.

"Mmm… the flax seeds will be fine, but this batch is going to the nursery so we need a sweeter mix. The children don’t care much for the bitter taste," Cyrus explained.

"So, do you want water lily petals, or I saw a patch of honey-flower growing outside the stables."

"Better collect both I could use more honey-flower stems and the water lily petals will give the potion a sweeter taste," the old man said finishing the cake.

"Ok, sounds good Cyrus, anything else?"

"Yes, I will need dragon-flower root and a few nightshade flowers," Cyrus said looking at his young apprentice. "Take care not to get any nightshade sap on you, remember what happened last time," Cyrus said shaking his head.

"Yeah, I don’t need another rash like that," Matteo smiled. "Ok, Cyrus I’ll be back around noon," Matteo said as he went out the door. Cyrus smiled as he watched Matteo walk down the street, past the blacksmith and fade out of view.

"Young man," Cyrus said aloud. "You know not the trials that await you. Destiny will soon begin to reveal itself; I have tried my best to prepare you for what’s to come."

That cool fall night seemed to be like any other, after teaching his classes Cyrus was ready to head to the pub for some wine, or maybe a tankard of ale. It had been a long day, and he felt that he owed it to himself to rest his tired bones. The academy was shaped like a giant ring, with a tower in the center. All of the schools of magic were located in this circle as well as the college of alchemy. In the center stood a massive stone tower, which served as the library for al of the colleges. Thousands of books lined its walls; some were over 500 years old. This massive structure also held the offices for the headmasters of each college. Inside the outer ring where each academy was located, there were beautiful gardens that surrounded statues of gods, legendary mages, and famous headmasters. Flowers of every color painted a tapestry of nature. Massive trees that gave shade for students to study under, and a crystal clear creek that flowed through the center of the gardens. It was truly a sight to behold, and unfortunately most common people have never seen the inside. Only the students and the teachers were allowed inside the gates, as the knowledge within those walls was too complicated for the average person to comprehend.