This world is filled with revenge. Everyone wants it. Everyone survives off of it. Some curse God for turning this world to sand, while others praise God to turn it back. For all I've known no one in this forgotten hellish world will coexist. Not the six Kingdoms, nor the religious factions that move from these sectors.
The Knights of Murami: A band of Knights cast out from their homeland, spreading the gospel of their God.
The Riders of Rei: A group of bandits that worship a singular standing rock in the center of the Badlands.
The Church of One God: The biggest religious group in the world as of the moment. It was once a branch of the Church of Murami, but quickly faded before rising back to popularity, since it worships a nameless God.
The Sun Seers: A group of select few special born humans, who believe they have the natural power to channel and harness the sun's energy. They also worship the sun.
And finally, there was the most hated religious group. The only religious group to step away from the idea of worshiping God and to instead worship another being...
Death...
The Apostles of the White Horseman's Apocolypse: A group of chaotic anarchists, that only want to watch the world burn, and to kill God. They destroy in the name of this unholy figure, called the White Horseman.
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Two days have passed, and Hoefen is finally out of bed.
He's spent the last couple of hours talking it over with Chief Jilmu and Ceauli, while the other villagers overheard their conversation in the town hall next door. It was a very important meeting... But also a meeting that I didn't want to attend since I didn't feel like being a part of that dangerous conversation again. So like the nice person I am, I volunteered to take care of the village children while the parents attended the meeting.
We all sat in the village school, which was also the village library, and the village learning center. It was a place filled with books, stacked atop shelves high up in the sky. Its peaked roof towering over the glass-filled windows that stared out at the neighboring thatched houses.
It was also crowded in seats. It's small rectangle area, equally spaced out in wooden chairs and tables, with spaces in between for children or smaller adults to walk through.
I sat at the front of the classroom, my hands pressed against the lectern as all the children wandered about the small twenty-foot-long building. It wasn't big, especially for fifteen kids, but they all seemed to make it work since they've spent their whole lives hobbled up in this small village. It actually sorta reminded me of my own school in Elisese, except, I never actually went to that school, I just watched from afar, from when I was a child, to after I was freed, I'd walk past that building, staring in at the kids learning...
A twelve-year-old boy walked up to me and pulled up a chair in front of my small lectern. He placed a book in front of me.
"Have you heard of this tale before Hoefen?" he asked with a smile as he handed me an old scratched-up leather book.
The book was called the tale of the White Horseman.
"Can you read it to us?"
All the other children started to huddle around the surrounding lectern, their seats pulled up side by side, with some kids sitting on desks and others on the old creaked floor.
"Fine, fine, I'll read it... I'm not a good reader, though, but I'll try."
I opened up the first page to see a picture of a man on a horse, his body cast in darkness as the surrounding area was colored in purple trees and thundering skies of lighting and clouds.
I read the four lines below the picture in a very bombastic tone.
"Once upon a time, there once lived a White Horseman. His sword burning of white flames as he wandered the Land of God. He traveled on his white steed across valleys of Monsters and mountains of Gods. All for one purpose, to kill God."
I looked up at the children and asked, "are you sure this is for kids?"
"Just read it!" demanded the older kid.
"Ahh... Ok... But don't get me in trouble with your parents."
I flipped the page and continued reading.
"The White Horseman wielded the Sword of White Flame. Its burning white blade shinning against the sky. He eventually reached a forest. A forest of magical and mystical creatures. But he soon figured out that the forest was protected by God, so in spite of him, he burned the forest down with his white flame. God got angry. He cast down a great strike of power, burning and turning the White Swordsman to ash."
After this page, the story started to get more cryptic.
"Like falling rain, this ash came back to haunt god. Because the White Horseman's sword of White Flame didn't just creak flame but also created life. Risen from ash, from hell, the phoenix of white flame, the bringer of death."
And as I finished reading over that line I looked up at the small picture above it. It was a picture of the White Horseman standing, but he wasn't covered in black, he was instead covered in white, his eyes the only figure sticking out from his immaculate image.
I looked up at the kids. Their faces wanting me to continue reading, but I was too hesitant, not because I was scared for the kids... But because I was scared for myself.
"I think we're done here. All you go continue playing on my own... I'll need to talk to... What's your name kid?" I asked, pointing to the older kid who gave me the book.
He looked up at me and told me his name.
"It's Giorgeo, but you can just call me Giorge."
"Well Giorge..." I looked at the page I never finished... I then read the last line on that page in my head.
The White Horseman traveled the earth in revenge.
"I want to know where you found this book?" I asked Giorge.
The kid got up from his seat and walked over to a bookshelf filled with books of the same nature.
"These are stories that were passed down in our village for hundreds of years. That one is a favorite of the kids... But... If I have to say, it's something of reassurance to us. The White Horseman... Sir, don't you think us, humans, are much like the White Horseman? We struggle in sand... We fight Monsters... And we... No I... I want to kill-"
"Don't..."
"Huh?"
The kid looked up at me confused as I placed the book back on the shelf.
"I mean... Kid... I know life is hard but hate and revenge... I don't know about that... Well I know it can lead a man to his own damnation, angered, hated, a hater of his own kind. But this White Horseman, why did he burn the forest down? Why did he fight? We don't know his background, so should we try relating to him, you know... But still... I can see why you like him. He fights, pushes through hordes of Monsters. Knows what he wants, and won't take no for an answer. He's your fate. Someone who you know will lead you to your salvation. Who saved you so many years ago. Someone you have to follow... That you can't get away from, becuase your life sucks, you have no purpose, no reason to live... So pretending like you-
"Sir what are you talking about?" asked the kid.
He looked at me as if I was hallucinating. I then realized what I was saying, and who I was talking about.
"Oh sorry, I went a bit... Sorry... Giorge, you can go back to your friends, now."
"O... Okay!"
He ran back over to his younger friends as I stood staring at this bookshelf. These old books, some burned, some rugged, ripped, torn. I looked at their blank labels. Pulling each one out, glancing at their covers, then placing them back.
The Story of the Last Murami.
The Legend of Rei.
The Lost Lands of Coul.
Legends and stories of great figures of history. And they each had the same cover, the same lined pages, each old and rusted, but also ripped. Some were tone, others had whole pages missing. It was a collection of old gone stories, their covers intact but their legends lost to history.
And as I scrolled through the books, I started to realized why those kids wanted me to read the Legend of the White Horseman. It wasn't really because they related to him, but more because it was the only book with a fully intact story. All these books were so old that no one could even understand a single word they were saying or even the story they were trying to tell...
The Story of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Legend of Feun.
The Sun Master and God.
The Tale of the Wielder of Fate...
I then pulled out the final and oldest of the books. I looked at its title...
The Legend of the Vagrant of Thunder.
Ceauli entered the building with Hoefen.
She announced, "Hoefen, we're leaving."