War Torn

Prologue: The Beginning

A thick mist swirled around the machines in the darkness. Two figures, one tall and proud, the other old and stooping, stood silhouetted in the half-light. The aged man looked around in dismay. This used to be The Golden Desert. Now, locals were beginning to call it the Golden Wasteland. Instead of life, all that remained were the spirits of the lost ones. The once shining sands had turned green and thick clouds blotted out the sun. The entire landscape was washed in a dull, sickly light. Even the water was now dirty and foul with pollution. The man shook his head, his mask heavy on his thought burdened mind. He turned to his companion.

"You were my best friend, my brother. But I cannot allow you to continue. By the dawn of tomorrow, the factories must be shut down or there will be war." The man said, leaning on his staff. The other man shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't you see, Aryun? We are so close to achieving our goal! And now you tell me that what I am doing is wrong? Remember that I gave you and your friends a home. I found a way to create light. I gave you the power you create your beloved staff! Yet you still seek to disobey me. But you forget that I am king. I will have the crystal perfected, but unfortunately, you won't be there to see it." Aryun tilted his head, confused. He turned to leave, but it was two late. The king had seized a black hammer that was leaning on a nearby pipe, swinging it down onto Aryun. He fell to the ground, his mask broken.

The king gasped, looking at his best friend crumpled at his feet. When the hammer hit it's mark, a small piece of darkness had crept its way into his heart, corrupting a small portion of his thoughts. The king pushed it away, convincing himself that he was doing the right thing. 

He adjusted his crown without noticing the small, spiky blue flower beginning to bud on the black metal.