- After they lost contact with all outside worlds, the animals died first. The largest ones due to the scarcity of food. Some clans were desperate and killed the creatures themselves. They claimed their sacred guardians could protect them once more by providing food while the world sorted itself out. Their Senshi would figure out a way to save them from the toxic mist that consumed everything it touched. Protecting smaller livestock was more important to survival than keeping ancient giants alive, especially when they required so many of their own resources.
Eld remembered mourning the loss of the pets he held most dear, thinking that maybe he was wrong to have them buried instead of used for food. Especially when the people started dying.
There was panic at first, and then desperation, and then it slowly became a way of life, of survival over the years, decades, centuries. His people were known for their long lives. They shouldn’t have perished as they did in a mere handful of centuries, and yet Eld couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone.
Were there others alive in his world still? Somewhere in the mountains perhaps? Or hiding in the valley caves where the mist wouldn’t creep?
Instead, the mist took, and took. A Chaotic force that Eld didn’t have the power to overcome.
Was it a result of their greed? Had they done something wrong to bring this upon themselves for enjoying prosperity for too long? Had he done something to cause this?
Checking on the traps set out into the water of the nearby pond resulted in nothing. They had been empty for years, and yet it was still part of the routine Eld set for himself to stay active.
Next he checked the small cage traps. It had been a long time since he’d seen as much as a spider, but he checked anyway. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing.
The small field he’d planted needed tending to, and he tried not to let himself get too upset when he had to pull up several root plants that had started to decay. He just grit his teeth and tossed them to the side to be burned later, and tried not to disturb the growth of the plants around those as he checked for other signs of decay.
He had enough food stored for himself to last another few years, if he was careful with his consumption. He’d started making journals of how much he ate, and became almost obsessed with calculating how much he had left.
It wasn’t even close to the amount he used to eat, and as a result he felt tired and more sluggish.
During the few hours in which the mist seemed to recede, Eld set out to search for others. He kept a basket with him to collect anything he could find that might be useful. A nice walking stick, a few nuts that hadn’t started to decay. Most of the plants that had survived a prolonged amount of time in the mist were too wilty and waterlogged to bear decent fruits. They always seemed to break apart upon touch, and the fruit itself was too sour and acidic to even try to eat.
When the mist started creeping back in, he headed back to his village. He was the only one there now. It once guarded the entrance to the cave where the great dragons slept, but now Eld spent several hours sorting out the items he’d collected over the centuries.
The walking stick was placed in a row with several other walking sticks. Some had been intricately carved, while others looked like they had just been picked up off the ground and could probably be used as firewood if necessary.
There were neatly piled pots and pans in one area. Possibly hundreds of them. Another pile was set up for household objects such as decorative bowls and statues. There was a large pile of bones kept in a few bins, but it seemed as though Eld stopped bothering after some point because they were covered in dust.
But he didn’t want everything in piles, so he started building shelves for everything. Custom made, of course, or at least altered to what would be the most efficient. The first, and most important things that had been sorted were the jars of preserved food. He’d strung up lines across the cave so he could dry several of the vegetables as well.
The cave was also where he slept. He’d been sleeping there for centuries by now. There was no point in staying in the Great Hall when no one else was there to share it with him. So he set up a large bed in the back corner, surrounded by walls he’d constructed to give himself some privacy.
From what, he didn’t know. Most likely it was just out of habit.
And every night before he went to sleep to start the day over again, he climbed up through the tunnel to an opening that looked out over the mountains and valleys and forests and rivers of his world. There, he sat and played an old wooden flute he’d received as a child. A haunting, sad melody, that was intended to call to whoever might be still alive, to let them know someone else was still there and waiting.
That night, as he played, something strange happened. Above him the clouds seemed to part and a bright star appeared in the sky.
Something was calling to him.
It wasn’t exactly a voice, but more like a feeling. Something reached to him from the darkness. Maybe if he listened, he would be able to find a way to fix everything and restore his world to what it once was.
Word Count: 1017
