From the Sacred Texts:
The Great Collapse was not a disaster.
It was a decree.
And that decree... still echoes with torments.
Tears are the testament to this.
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Salvation.
A salvation from the hands of heaven - far from sight, yet close to the sky. Or perhaps the opposite: death delivered by the one closest to us. I do not know how to describe this unfamiliar feeling. As if earth and sky were screaming their syllables at each other, as if hands stretching from the depths of the soil were clutching at my legs. I am either here or there. Either within the curse or above the heavens.
What lingers most in my mind is that cold. The wind rising from the edge of a vast abyss. Cold, petrified bodies - and I walk among them. One lies on the ground, a doll in their hand, a look of confusion frozen on their face. They could have been called a child - small enough for it. And I, who once called out to them... I became their killer.
I felt as though I would drown. My trembling hands threw my helplessness back into my face. And the bloodied sword lying on the ground spoke of something else entirely. It was unbearable. My mind could not carry it.
And so I said, with a pride born of denial:
"All will bow to the wrath of this sword."
Because this was my duty - and this duty stood far beyond their fragile fates. And I would not look back. The roaring, raging sandstorm would command me forward, and I would walk with steady steps, sinking into and rising from the sands. Beneath golden dunes and a deep blue sky, those shivering bodies - those touched by my blade - would remain behind. In the name of the great unity and existence of the Kingdom of Sands and the City of Memories, the cuts the sands carved into my flesh would stand as proof of my power.
After a while, my steps led me to a temple at the heart of the city. I sat within those ruins until my eyes could no longer distinguish anything. The only sound I heard between those cold walls was the deafening chorus of crickets, as though they screamed their existence into the void.
These ruins I now stand within once formed a temple that reached toward the heavens. These delicate stones, bound together with profound meaning, once welcomed people with warmth. They would sleep here at night, in the place where they found themselves and the reason for their existence. Each evening, they were warmed in its embrace. Hidden within was a stream, flowing with quiet affection. Sunlight would fall gently through its windows. Candles burned here; prayers were spoken - and answered - within these walls. Once they entered, they could never remain the same.
It was such a place that... flowers seemed to be born here, the moon circled around it, as if the entire universe existed for this place alone - and God had given everything for it.
But even the power of God had an end.
I stood. The storm still roared with all its might, and from my lips came a single prayer. With it, all living things seemed to fall into silence, holding their breath. Time stood still. The last leaves on the trees withered slowly. Everything - everyone - listened as I completed my final ritual.
The sands covering the earth and the suffocating air made me feel as though I were trapped within a mirage - like being sealed inside an inverted hourglass. And my cursed grandeur would last only until the final grain of sand. I was their last hope. The last hope of a great people and a crumbling order.
The final savior of the innocent Kingdom of Sands - and of this entire world. So they said. And at the same time, a weapon meant to consume their enemies.
With aching joints, I moved forward one last time. The lights of the city now filled my eyes from afar.
That enemy - the King of the Abyss - must have been reveling upon his throne. Let him revel. That, too, would come to an end.
I walked, and walked, and walked - unaware of time passing. The sun had drained all my strength. The last thing I remember is his face - and a few others, filled with shock. Aaron, opening his green eyes, running toward me.
And then - darkness..