Final Fantasy - Dungeonscape Chronicles 001: The Buried Past

Marmar

A dream? Am I dreaming? Since when the world turned into this haze of unbound thoughts? Since when the dream became eternal? I try to recall it's beginning, but my mind is adrift, eternally adrift. Shouldn't I despair? Shouldn't I scream for help? I cannot answer. There is no answer from my heart, as it feels so distant that the space in between the stars feels closer and traversable.

I have a vision of the past buried in the dreams of the world. I see an age in which the snake from afar raised altive and haughty in vanity and might, challenging anybody who would dare doubt it's power harnessing the strenght of stone on it's favor, fashioning temples of granite to worship it's own visage in godly manners. I see the snake from afar crowning itself god over all life, creating shadows of itself by sharing it's blood with beasts of the natural world, carving servants and worshippers for it's own vanity, strippers of freedom for those whom the snake saw fitting for it's biddings. I see unwilling hands working towards unholy goals, their will bent through fear and pain to praise gods of flesh and war who care not about anything but their own hunger for power.

I have a vision of the past buried in the dreams of the world. I see an age in which the snake from afar dared to wake the world from it's slumber before the time was right. I see the spirit of the world unleashed in horror and awe undivisible as the curse of oblivion is cast on the minds of the world and many lives are taken as due prize for such a transgression. I see the snake from afar confused and bereft of memory, wandering lands of sand in the north and south, in the vain hope of recalling what was lost. I see freedom returning to the people of the world as loyal servants run from angry voices and spears thirsty for blood. I see empires of stone crumbling as the world swallow their pieces one by one. I see the haughty worshiper of gods of flesh and war loosing the seed of enlightening, turning itself to the ways of the old beast, akward and confused, as in the days before the snake from afar crowned itself.

I have a vision of the past buried in the dreams of the world, but this isn't my dream. Will I ever escape from this river of memory or am I also fated to be forever lost, buried in the dreams of the world?

- Marmar, Shaitan Genie.