The Things That Change Us
Terra
A soft wind blew through the plains, rippling the endless sea of wheat. Golden plants shook with the air's breath, swaying and shifting. The wind blew upon a nearby ocean, sending waves crashing onto the endless shore. Water saturated the sand, turning the fine grains into moist, brownish clumps. White foam danced across the golden beach. Overhead, the sun poked out from behind white, wispy clouds, its blinding rays illuminating the earth below. Fields of cotton and incense lay scattered in the valleys, and vast swathes of green mulberry leaves waited for the worms to begin their feast. A vast forest lay beyond the bay, towering trees guarding precious deposits of iron and coal. The ground was placid, the earth was still, the sands were quiet. And the wind blew.
A patch of wheat rustled, out of tune with the wind's silent melody. A bare, five-toed foot thumped against the soft dirt, followed by another. Hands reached out to part the sea, worn with age and wisdom. Rough-hewn clothes, made of cloth and skin, brushed against tall stalks of grain. The sun beat down against brown, leathery skin, and sweat beaded in his dark, short goatee. A cloth turban lay wrapped around his head, and small, rigid glasses covered his eyes, reflecting the sun's gleam. He let out a raspy, tired sigh, throwing his hands onto his knees. He watched his sweat water the plants.
From behind him, another man appeared. Dressed in armor, and carrying a metal sword, the fair-skinned warrior looked around, sharp blue eyes taking in the serene landscape. A trail of footprints followed him, left by his muddy greaves. Several stalks of wheat lay cut, emancipated from their mortal existence by the warrior's mighty swing. Extending a hand, the man lifted his thinner colleague up, and they continued their trek through the endless sea.
"Will we ever find one?" asked the thin man.
The thin man pushed through the wheat, long, gangly legs arching over root-encrusted dirt. The strong man fared no better. Rivers of sweat gushed from his head. It felt like a furnace was burning inside his armor. He wiped his brow with his gauntlet, and continued to follow the thin man.
"We will, Nefrentar." said the strong man. "One day. Someday."
The thin man pushed away the last row of grain, and revealed the sea that lay beyond. Birds soared over its clear blue waters, crowing and cackling. Silver fish jumped out of the waves, sending droplets of water flying into the oceans around. Gently, the wind blew on the water, tiny ripples lapping against bare feet and armored greaves. The two men stared across the infinite expanse, as the burning sun illuminated the sandy bottom of the bay.
They stood there, silent as statues, as the tide receded and faded back into the mouth of the bay. With the wet bay revealed, the men began their search. The thin man, Nefrentar, poked around in the seaweed, while the strong man swung his blade at the lopsided kelp. With dark hands pushing, and gleaming metal cutting, the two were able to scour the area quickly. The thin man poked his head in many a kelp patch. The strong man cut many a kelp patch down. But, as the sun went down, and the tide began to rise, both men began to hurry their efforts. Sweat mixed with rising water, and rising water with bare skin. Soon, the water reached up to their knees, and both men slowly waded back to shore.
"Another day, wasted." said the thin man.
"We must be patient." said the strong man. "In time, an Immortal will reveal itself to us."
"Cadmir, we've both lived for hundreds of cycles. Without an Immortal to lead us, I fear that our nation will-"
"Don't say it, Nefrantar, I understand."
The two men watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in darkness. With a heavy sigh, the men returned to the grain fields, dark hands and silver blades weaving through shadowy plants. No longer guided by the sun's light, the two men stumbled around in the blackness, tripping over stones and roots as they left the wheat field and entered the forest.
There was a tiny tent propped up against a sturdy tree. Two women sat outside it, preparing a fire. A stack of twigs and leaves stood in a ring of stones, and one of the women struck a piece of metal against a smooth black rock. Sparks flew from the stone as the two men trudged back to camp, tired and sweaty.
The strong man stepped inside the cloth tent, unbuckling the straps on his armor. The tall man squatted near the fire pit as it ignited, covering the forest clearing in red, rippling light. The faces of the two women were bathed in radiance, the flickering flame running over their mottled features. What clothes they wore were dirty and torn, and debris lay entangled in their hair. The old one yawned, raising an arthritic and venous hand, while the younger, beautiful one sat on her log, entranced by the fire. The strong man came out of the tent, without his armor, and pulled up a log. Together, the four people sat, embraced by the heat, a shining beacon in a field of darkness.
The night sky above blinked. A flash of light blotted out the stars, and a new cycle began. The days flew by, the sun and moon spinning wildly as time rushed forwards. The four people sat, frozen at their campfire, as deer zipped past them, leaves fell around them, and snow floated down above them. The fire flickered and danced, but remained lit. Around the four, the world changed, fell apart, and was reborn. But they failed to perceive it. The world accelerated without them. Then, with a mighty gust of wind, the cycle ended, and the flame in the pit blew out.
It was now noon. The two men left the camp, with armor and blade, and the two women remained, gathering wood for a new fire.
The wind blew, and the wheat rustled in the distance.
