Or just look up 'epic mountain photos' online or something I dunno
*******
[Unitopia, Eastern Continent]
The impotent stars had begun to fade, chased away by the dawn rays of the blue star, their unholy light purified. The man's eyes were still open, but they were no longer consumed with despair. The warm rays of the blue dawn illuminated the newfound purpose in his soul.
But purpose or not, hunger remained an undefeatable foe. His throat was dry and a sharp, stabbing pain assaulted his stomach. How long had he lay there, in a daze, before coming to his senses?
Judging by the all-encompassing smell of death, it hadn't exactly been a short nap he had taken. Before anything else, he needed food and energy. The answer was obvious, he knew that, but it was as if his brain refused to acknowledge it. He thought and thought, exhausting every possibility, however small. But that empty pit in his stomach only grew.
He could feel his consciousness fading, drifting at the edge of delirium, visited by faces and ghosts. He heard the voices of his friends, but their words were jumbled. And their faces, their faces were blurry.
The man squinted, blinking out the dirt that had gotten into his eyes. Akin to a camera lens focusing, the mishmash of colours and lines sharpened into a crystalline focus. He jerked back in horror, attempting to scream, but only a hoarse gasp came from his voice. He felt something warm dribble out of his mouth down his chin. Something...
No!
He shut his eyes tight, like a child refusing to acknowledge reality. But nothing could change the fact that the pit in his stomach was lessened, the thirst in his throat quenched.
The ghosts around him caressed him with their slimy touch, whispering in his ears, but he blocked them off.
'There was no choice', he told himself. 'I had to there was no choice'
It was made easier, though, to have a faceless enemy. One whom the blame can be so easily placed upon.
'It's because of them, it's not my fault.'
He opened his eyes with a force of will, bloodshot irises gazing longingly at the brightening sky of early dawn. Vultures flocked above, circling, mocking him with their cries. The wind whistled through the wreckage, its tone like shrieking laughter.
The blue sky was nothing more than a paper thin veil that hid the sparkling, hateful gaze of the stars: he would not fall for its lies.
Those leering eyes, he could feel their gaze even now. Their hatred that an ant dared stand up to them. He looked back down. At what he had ignored. At the rotted face still stuck in a helmet above him.
With an expression of wrath, he opened his mouth and bit down, eyes leaking blood that sizzled as it landed on the crumpled wreckage under him. A hideous taste assaulted his tongue, but he did not relent even for a second. He did not turn his gaze away. He would not turn away. That would be a dishonour. And these were not the ones he had vowed to dishonour. No matter that the tattered remnants of their uniform was a different design, the badge on their shoulder a different shape, their skin a different colour (see? I'm not racist). His vow was not against them.
He could feel it burning within him, like a brand on his soul, as though it had a mind of its own. He could sense the potential it had. For power, or ruin.
'Or is it power and ruin? You cannot have one without the other.'
The stars had power. But they had yet to taste ruin.
'I shall gladly be the hand that delivers it'
***
[Unitopia, Western Continent]
Recovering from his laughing fit with difficulty, the rabbit man wiped the tears from his eyes.
"I'm Fluvious Fiddle-Styx, part-time warden of this town here"
He pointed backwards with a gloved thumb. "If you wanna get in you'll have to pay up."
Interrupting Ziriothrax who surely was about to smite this man from existence for the slight against his prosperous person (well, that's what he wanted to do. Whether he could or not is up for debate. Considering the fact that he is just a cricket, I mean), Jeffbob replied amused.
"The young grove did not mention any such price. Though I shall respect the customs of the land. This is the way of Vegetable-kind".
Fluvious Fiddle-Styx' floppy ears twitched noticeably at the mention of the grove, but the gibberish Jeffbob's sentence devolved into took away from the gravitas of the moment. Choosing to ignore it for the nonsense it is (there is no foreshadowing in this novel, it was literally nonsense. There are also no contradictions in this novel - just reminding you), he brought a hand to stroke his furry chin.
"Only one grove in that direction and it sure as Styx isn't young", he said, hand drifting to the sheaths at his waist before thinking better of it.
"Yeah, that's the first good idea you've had all day, little bunny", Ziriothrax growled menacingly from his height of about 2 inches. "I suggest you let us in without a fuss. The alternative will not be pleasant for you".
Fluvious Fiddle-Styx, as you may have guessed, was not an ordinary rabbit-head man. He was a special rabbit-head man. The surname 'Styx' was only bestowed to direct descendants of The Pale Death and his siblings Disease, Depression and, the most evil one of all, Mild Discomfort. For another to be bestowed it spoke to an honorary relationship of mutual respect.
Of course, this meant that this rabbit-head man had...aided...a considerable many on their inevitable journey to Death's domain. All this is to say his red eyes could see the overlapping spirit world, and his intuition was far stronger than most. Yet despite that, the little cricket before him had completely shrouded its nature.
Until that moment. When it replied to him, a sliver of a presence descended around him. It locked him in place and he felt a hundred, a thousand, a million, a billion billion souls wail their final laments! Yet above it all was a horrifying presence. He dared not raise his head, yet its hideous shadow on the ground exploded his mind into a thousand small pieces, each one impressed upon with visions of horrors beyond horrors.
And just as soon as it started, it stopped. The shadow that had enveloped the land receded, and daylight shone through. The cries that deafened him quietened, and he could hear the sounds of nature again.
Not daring to joke around any further, he shot to his feet from his lounging position on the deck chair.
"Head on right through, esteemed gentlecricket and gentle...being. The Mayor is waiting for you."
Jeffbob took this moment to wake from his trance and, impressed by the polite tone of the young rabbit-head man, he nodded his head in respect.
"Glad to see some youngsters still have respect for their elders, haha"
Fluvious only laughed weakly and stepped to the side to let them through refusing eye contact with Ziriothrax with the firm belief of if he didn't look at it, it couldn't hurt him. A suited being with a Square drawn on his opaque visor on a red planet a universe away sneezed.
Fluvious collapsed down on the chair, his shirt soaked through with cold sweat. He fiddled with the sheath on his waist subconsciously as he thought.
'How many people has a soul like that reaped', he shuddered. 'I was caught off guard, that vision broke through all my mental fortifications. Next time, it won't be so easy.
'It has been so long since I've had a good fight on my hands'
A Cheshire grin spread on his face before he quickly suppressed it.
'More importantly, he managed to cast it here, so close to the domain of the Mayor? Perhaps I should have gone with them...'
He thought for a few more seconds before laughing out loud.
"Now that's a funny joke. They won't be a problem for the Mayor. After all he's..."
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Going to be revealed in the next chapter. Yeah. Fight me.