Twilight bathed the city of Tlangthar in hues of orange and purple as the earth groaned and shook violently. For over a minute, the tremor seized the land in its relentless grip, rattling the bamboo-and-concrete skyscrapers that adorned the hills. When the shaking finally subsided, a long, ominous sigh reverberated across the city, as though the earth itself mourned. The sounds of panic soon rose to replace the eerie silence.
People spilled out of their modest homes, clustering in the flat expanse at the top of the hill. This central space, flanked by the residences of the chief, his advisors, and key experts, mirrored the design of all Xiaxoan towns and cities. The homes of ordinary citizens dotted the slopes below, growing smaller and humbler as they descended. Tlangthar was a city of 2 million souls, an interconnected tapestry of hills and high-rises, where even the chief's house eschewed grandeur in favor of practicality.
The gathering crowd surged with questions, their voices blending into a frantic murmur. At the center of this unease stood Zakop, the chief of Tlangthar, a supposedly middle aged man with black hair, moustache and a beard, his features commonplace, the only thing that made him stand out was his scar across the face of what seemed have gotten in battle. When he finally emerged from his reinforced bamboo porch, flanked by his family, the noise died instantly. His presence commanded respect, a testament to the trust his people had in his leadership.
Zakop was joined by his advisors: Chinzah, a formidable warrior and skilled hunter, and Pupi, an enigmatic elder whose mastery of divination and magical runes was unmatched. Their arrival underscored the gravity of the situation.
Zakop raised his hands, his voice steady and deliberate. "My people, do not be alarmed. We are aware of the quake and are taking all necessary measures. Our elders, who are not present, have already departed to investigate the epicenter, accompanied by magical engineers. Rest assured, we will uncover the cause of this disturbance." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. "The day is still young. Please return to your homes and resume your duties. Be careful, and may the Dysno watch over you."
With a bow, Zakop clasped his hands in a ceremonial gesture. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, their fear tempered but not entirely quelled. Respect for their chief kept them from questioning him further, though unease lingered in their hearts.
As the last of the people left the square, Chinzah and Pupi approached Zakop on the porch.
"My lord," Chinzah began, his tone grave, "this event is unprecedented. Nothing of this magnitude has occurred in recorded history."
"The runes are behaving oddly," Pupi added, his wrinkled hands clasping his staff. "They're neither jammed nor hacked, but long-range communications with the Empire have been severed. We're isolated for now."
Zakop nodded thoughtfully. "The information branches will be crucial. Summon all our resources to assess the situation."
Taking a deep breath, Zakop moved his hands in a clockwise motion, weaving a spell. His eyes glowed faintly blue as mana coursed through him. After a minute of concentration, he lowered his hands, his expression troubled.
"What did you learn, my lord?" Chinzah pressed, his brows furrowed.
"Tlangthar has suffered no major damage," Zakop replied, his voice heavy with thought. "The neighboring town of Pamchai reports the same, as does our port city, Leilung. However, long-range tele-runes remain unresponsive. We have no word from the Empire. We must send an aerial mage squad to the capital to gather intelligence."
Before they could discuss further, a figure clad in white priestly robes landed on the porch. The bishop's sudden arrival drew respectful bows from the three leaders.
"Chief Zakop," the bishop intoned, his voice resonant yet cold. "The Church has instructed me to deliver this message: things are changing, perhaps for the worse. Take necessary precautions. May the Dysno watch over you."
Without waiting for a response, the bishop turned and departed, his robes billowing behind him.
"He came, spoke, and left in an instant," Zakop muttered, lighting a cigarette from his tobacco pouch. "These priests do enjoy their air of mystery."
Chinzah and Pupi exchanged knowing glances but said nothing. Zakop gestured for them to follow him inside. "Come, let's have tea. We've just prepared Mana-tufted Serow jerky."
Inside Zakop's modest yet sturdy home, the scent of smoked meat mingled with the earthy aroma of tea. The three leaders discussed strategies and contingencies late into the evening, their voices low but urgent. After half an hour, Chinzah and Pupi departed, leaving Zakop to his thoughts.
In the kitchen, Zakop's son, Larin, stood washing dishes. The young man's long, pitch-black hair was tied back, revealing bronze skin and sharp black eyes that mirrored his father's. His movements were unhurried, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
"Father," Larin called without turning, "why did the earth shake like that? Have we angered Sinlung?"
Zakop leaned against the doorframe, his cigarette smoldering. "I do not know, my son. I communed with Sinlung before coming inside, but the answers were vague. The land shared only the barest hints of information." He exhaled a stream of smoke. "It is worrying, but remember what I told you: do not speak of Sinlung and Khiuniu when the bishops are present. The people's hearts may still hold faith in them, but the Dysno tolerates no rivals."
Larin nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile as he began to hum a familiar folk song:
The world, the world
Man needs Khiuniu
Man needs Sinlung
Man cannot survive alone.
Zakop's gaze softened. The song, passed down through generations, was a quiet rebellion against the dominance of the Dysno. It reminded him of the resilience of their people—a strength they would need in the days to come.
Later that night, Zakop stood alone on his porch, gazing at the starry sky. The city below him was quiet, the earlier panic replaced by uneasy slumber. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities pressing on his shoulders, heavier than ever before. The quake had shaken more than just the land; it had disrupted the delicate balance of their world.
He thought of the bishop's cryptic warning, the malfunctioning runes, and the silence from the Empire. Each piece of the puzzle hinted at a larger, more dangerous picture.
A faint rustle behind him broke his reverie. Turning, he saw Larin standing in the doorway, his expression curious.
"You should be asleep," Zakop said, his tone lighter than before.
"So should you," Larin countered with a small grin. "What happens now?"
Zakop considered his son's question. "Now, we prepare. The world is shifting, and we must be ready to face whatever comes."
Larin nodded, his youthful determination shining through. "I want to help."
Zakop's lips twitched into a rare smile. "In time, you will. For now, rest. Your time will come sooner than you think."
As Larin retreated into the house, Zakop remained on the porch, his thoughts churning like a restless sea. He could sense that the quake was merely the beginning of something far greater, something that would test the resilience of not just Tlangthar, but the entire Empire.
Above him, the stars seemed to shimmer with foreboding, their light both a comfort and a warning. The night held its secrets tightly, and Zakop knew that unveiling them would come at a price. But for the sake of his people, he was prepared to pay it. And so, he communed with Sinlung again, the spell [Sinlung] had countless uses, but it was mainly used to commune and divine, the spell construct fizzled in the air as Zakop stood there motionless. After an hour of being in a trance, he woke up and whispered ,"What does it all mean ?" while looking at the two moons of Sinlung.