The land of Sanitatum is said to be filled with magic, but it is also plagued by a contagious curse that threatens humanity's survival. It is the purpose of the heir to the throne, Simba Adofo, to inherit his father's crown and find a way to vanquis...
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Hari descend down a spiral staircase into a long hallway. It was lined with flickering torches that followed the walls towards a blinding light at the end. Darwin was on the floor of the tunnel, peacefully jumping about on the stone floor. The light was blinding, causing Darwin's shadow to bounce about the walls around him. Hari almost couldn't recognize the bird any longer. Darwin's silhouette masked his identity so.
Then the bird jumped up and flew into the light, leaving Hari alone in this strange place. Running after the bird, Hari passed into the bright threshold, his eyes painfully burning as he tried to catch up.
Blinking his eyes open, he found himself looking over a cliff above a land he didn't recognize. It smelt of a breezy freshness. Flowers grew from the rocky crag below him and spotted the fields beyond. The flowers were red and blue.
Darwin held a shiny object Hari didn't recognize in his beak. A distinctive Ting sound started to thunder around him louder and louder until there was a chorus of ringing that mocked Hari. He bent over in pain, clutching his ears and closing his eyes to shut out the noise. What was that sound? It was so familiar.
Swords suddenly clashed and war cries echoed. Bewildered, Hari unfolded himself and watched as the flowers of red and blue were trampled on by soldiers dressed in white charging at those dressed in black, and vice versa. All the soldiers wore metal helmets that covered their faces. It was a war, and Hari was sitting in the middle with no side to call his own as the scene of violence burst into action. The soldiers fought on as if Hari weren't there, as if he hadn't existed yet.
There was a mystical feeling Hari felt in his belly when observing the conflict. The tension between hope and hopelessness harnessed his breath until he was finally forced to exhale. He watched, unscathed, as the soldiers dropped one by one, witnessing as the battle slowly came to an end.
He knew nothing about these soldiers, their motives, or their goals. All he knew was the color of their clothes they bore proudly as they murdered each other. But Hari grew accustomed to the army dressed in white for a reason that alluded him precisely. There was a modesty to them; a righteousness that was suggested in the purity of the colors they clad. That was all he knew about the army of pure white, but he still cheered as the soldiers clad in black dropped one after the other.
The presentation became the value to Hari. He invested hope in their affinity to righteousness. He held his breath as the final soldier was slain to end the war, and around him echoed the victorious yells of the team he was rooting for. Hari noted what an ecstatic moment it was to be on the side of victory.
Then the army left standing shed their metal helmets. Hari's eyes shed tears as the metal masks revealed not fleshy faces but bony skulls, cracked and scarred and offensive to the eye. Hari felt weak in his knees, as if the weight of his misplaced hope dashed his strength.
