A World Torn Apart

The cold air blew through the crevice in the window, gently caressing the cheeks of Markus as he slept in his bed made of a combination of oak and straw. Sunlight peeking through glinting onto his soft ashy brown hair, the bite of the air waking him initially as he slowly arose and stretched out his many aches and pains. He slid himself out of his bed and touched his feet onto the cold stone floor, covered in a sort of powder to keep it from getting overly dirty. A swift chill was sent up his spine as he began to stand up on the cold stone. His nightshirt swaying gently as he slowly cast open the shutters to let the full morning sun into his room. He peered out into the streets, already beginning to bustle with people going about their morning routines. Lethargically he turned and twisted himself to take out any possibility of injuring himself.

"Time for my morning routine I suppose." He said to himself as he finished stretching, soon the smells of the city came flooding into his room as he began to do his morning workout, a quick one hundred push ups followed by fifty sit ups. His body leaving steam behind him as he moved through the motions, sweat dripping from his brow at the end. Slowly began to stretch his legs out and began to change himself into his clothes. Pulling on a shirt similar to his nightshirt, this one black, like the night sky or like charcoal from a fire. His trousers loose at their end but match the shirt in colour. A pair of old mud covered boots, made out of boiled leather lay next to his feet as he continued to ready himself, before pulling them on.

The young lad's face, barely fixed from waking, started to become whole again as he slowly flattened down his hair and pulled on his boots. Cracking open the door to his now lively house, he entered the hallway made of various woods and some small amounts of stone, slowly making his way towards the kitchen and open area of his house. His mother left out on the table some bread and butter for him to eat, with the night's butchery on the worktop next to her. A slab of venison, its colour a sort of purple with some traces of blood lingering still on its edges, a fresh cut from the local hunters. Part of it was being prepared whilst the other was being salted so it could be preserved. The table itself was made of an old oak, dark in colour but sturdy as possible, the counters made out of some pine, golden, gleaning in the sunlight after being polished recently. Some dents on it from use of knives which lay on a rack a various assortment of cleavers and small knives.

A small sitting area lay across from the kitchen, next to where the door was. A makeshift seat made out of straw and a woollen sheet, the area was mainly used for house meetings in the past or when they had guests who wished to have some ale and various cheeses to celebrate something of notice, a birthday perhaps. Next to this makeshift seat was a stairwell that led to the upper floors of the house, where his parents lived in their bedroom alongside a room for his pregnant mother.

"Don't you be too long." His mother called as he went towards the door grabbing the piece of loaf on the table left for him, quickly shoving it in his mouth.

"I won't." he replied sharply, although barely understandable due to the bread in his mouth. Quickly exiting the house and closing the door behind him. Finishing the bread in his hand he stretched out some more as some passer-bys gave him a little wave. Walking past him into the house, his father finished his night of watch duty and headed to bed to get some rest. The pair of them nodded to each other before Markus took off into a jog and began to slide between the people who marched upon the streets covered in shit and straw.

He made his way through some stalls and out towards the city gates, the walls made out of grey stone quarried close by, the gate itself was a combination of a portcullis with a reinforced wooden door behind it. Both were open to let the traders enter and exit the city, a thriving city that glimmered as a beacon of hope in the world around them. Markus on his own crossed the drawbridge with its tranquil river dancing beneath it towards the waterfall that dropped the water into the lake down below.

The city itself was built on a cliffside that dropped into a manmade reservoir of water, some of the people believing the city was made by the use of magic to ensure its safety against intruders. Slowly Markus jogged down an old path that led to the pine forest that lay just next to the fields of wheat and barley that blew with their golden folds in the crisp breeze.

"Markus." A farmer noted as he began to work away on his fields, his family pulling along behind him a horse drawn cart with scythes to begin harvesting. Markus simply nodded with a smile back to the farmer and his family and continued on his path to the forest. He was a well known figure in the community now, at 17 years old, he had made many friends with the people due to his charismatic nature at times. Yet he was also known as a rash hothead who dived in too deep when spotting a chance to accomplish something. Various ventures of his in the past failed deeply, forcing his parents to pick up the pieces behind him.

As he entered the forest he picked up the pace as soon as he heard the birds chirping their melodic songs to each other. Slowly hastening himself, hopping over logs and bushes, swerving past trees and brambles, the woodpeckers knocked against the trees then deepening into an eerie silence for a moment before another knocked back. The wind blew the leaves carefully as the tree tops swayed together in a jovial dance. Soon the flat lands started to descend into a slope reaching a smaller valley that opened up beside the lake. Down in the area below the flowers, tulips, daisies and roses gently swayed around each other.

Markus slowed down in the valley, his breath getting away from him, like his soul being sucked from his very being, he turned around and took in the sight he loved to see so much, before making his way over to some woodsmen to help them transport their wood to the local charcoal makers and store houses. The woodsmen laughed between each other as he approached, drenched in sweat.

"Ah, Markus. Good morning." One of the woodsmen said handing over a sack of chopped wood to Markus, who quickly grabbed onto it slinging it behind his shoulder awaiting the other.

"Strong as ever aren't you Markus?" The other woodsmen added, handing the other bag to Markus.

"If you wished, you could easily take up our trade and we'd help you learn the ropes around here you know. You'd certainly fit in with us." he added, a soft smile behind the words. Markus smiled, shaking his head before replying in a hushed tone.

"That wouldn't be for me, you know that. You always ask this every time I come by." Slowly Markus began to move off to the charcoal makers, the woodsmen behind him yelling at some kids to get off their property as they turned about to head back to their homes.

Continuing on down by the lakeside Markus finally made it to the Charcoal Makers, dropping off one of the bags at their storehouse before moving on. They hadn't risen yet from their sleep and that was a good thing. These Charcoal Makers were notorious for bad mouthing everyone that came by, it was just a shame that they were really the only ones close to the city. Carrying the sack of wood that grew every heavier by the moment all the way back on the same path he had taken in the morning, Markus had finally arrived at the gates. A small sign post giving directions to local villages and towns, whilst at the top a sign sat, the words "City of Luik" written deep into the wood.

Slowly making his way through the city towards its storehouses that were deeper in, Markus noticed that the streets had become far more lively, a soothing awe of excitement as Royal Guardsmen fluttered around with leaflets, nailing them hard into the wood of posts and windows alike. A group of Sand Elves meandered into the city behind Markus, tradesmen from the East. Their many carts carried precious golden and silver jewellery with blood red crystals imbued onto them, when the light hit them they shone in a beautiful melody of colour. They also carried several bags that lay unopened and unmarked. Most likely jewellery as well.

The elves themselves, much too many humans hate, were master craftsmen. Most elves were born into a life working the smithy of their family and learning that valuable trade. Unfortunately in recent years the relations between Man and Elf had soured due to a small band that caused havoc many years ago, they reaped and pillaged the countryside of the Kingdom of Lane, which the City of Luik is the capital of. A vast Kingdom that borders a desert to its east, where the elves come from. The rest of it is surrounded by the coast of the Island, across the ocean from us lays the main continent that holds the rest of life, including the infamous Empire of Thurk.

As the day moved on so did Markus, returning home after dropping off his delivery to the storehouse and beginning to do menial chores to help his mother.

"Markus go scrub the stairs for me." she hollered as he strolled through the kitchen, Markus quickly grabbing a scrubbing brush and began to work. First scrubbing hard and deep into the wood on his first approach before a softer second that pushed all the unwanted dust off the stairs into a small bag that went into the fire pit outside the house. As the day grew dark Markus left his house again and went to wander around the city, the streets were now again empty with a dead silence upon them. A slow creeping chill climbed up his spine for some reason, something felt off to him. Slowly he approached the city centre, passing under these grand arches that splayed out in a circle corralling a small marketplace in its centre. All the stalls were closed and their goods packed up for the night, lockboxes firmly locked to stop thieves and guards now on patrol around the most valuable areas. Their spears now reflecting the orange hue of the setting sun and then reflecting the fine white light that came from the rising moon.

As he looked around the now dead marketplace he noticed a couple bags had been left lying around, and as he ventured over to check them he noticed a hooded figure approach them. The bags themselves felt familiar to him but he couldn't tell if his fears were true as the moon hid behind some clouds. Calmly the hooded figure approached them, a quick spark flickered from under his hood like a match being lit, then a soft orange flame that glowed in the dark and lit up his mouth for a split second. The orange light carried on for a moment till it then seemed to jump from the hooded figure to the bags.

Within a split second the bags lit, and then a massive explosion, a resounding boom. It echoed through the streets as the shutters on windows slammed with the wind that came off of the explosion, the flame flickering all the colours of the rainbow as the smoke poured ever upwards into the sky. Markus was sent flying backwards and onto his back by the explosion, the hooded figure becoming engulfed in the flames that rose ever higher and spread ever quicker. Then another explosion, and another all in different parts of the city, more and more explosions happening all at once it seemed like.

The guards quickly flocked to the site of the first explosion noticing the unconscious Markus and a tattered old robe now on fire left towards an alleyway. One of the guards quickly helped Markus to his feet, whilst the other split up to ensure the safety of the city's people.

"Markus wake up." The guard called out to him, holding him up in a standing position. "Are you alright?" He asked straight after, a mass amount of concern for his well being.

"I'm fine, but what about the hooded person?" Markus softly returned, his mind doing circles, his words slightly slurred trying to regain himself.

"He either died in the explosion or fled. Don't worry we'll find out soon." The guard quickly left Markus alone and went off on his own to help people. "You should just get back home Markus." He called out as he rushed off to be a hero. Slowly Markus regained himself, unable to walk fully he leant against walls on his return home. As he gazed up into the sky he could see multiple stacks of smoke that carried themselves about 50 feet tall and seemed to envelop the city in a shroud of smoke.

Slowly he made his way home, to the best of his ability he tried to calm people that were worried about what was happening as he passed them. Moving ever closer to home he began to notice one of the stacks of smoke that he thought was just outside of the walls was actually much closer than he thought. Quickly he sped up and reached an alley where he could see his house, a fire engulfed it and wooden timbers slowly came down upon the street now illuminated by the ever growing fire.

The timbers as they hit the ground split into thousands of orange glowing embers scattering out along the street before cooling leaving a black trail of where they hit. Flowing into the sky ever higher was the fire, the orange, red and yellow fighting each other in a war to rise higher. Above the city, a cloud of ash formed, as if the city had been a dormant volcano releasing ash into the air to cover for its lack of eruption. Slowly fluttering to the ground like butterfly wings were pieces of ash, landing onto the skin of everyone, scalding and in some cases melting flesh. Markus scurried around the street searching for a bucket to use to put out the fire on his house, whilst the fire continued to rage on leaping from neighbours house to neighbours house, from person to person. It's fury and resolve unwavering even with hundreds upon thousands of people dousing the flames in water from the well.

"Markus look out!" called a stranger as a wooden beam from one of the houses on the street came crashing to the ground, again the embers scattered along the ground, Markus himself narrowly dodging death for a second time that night. Hastily he weaved his way through the crowded street now turning into a school of fish all helping each other attempt to put out the flames. Children crying ever louder into the night as the people of Luik's livelihoods stood in front of them ablaze. Making his way to the well, the spring itself becoming dry due to the amount of water being taken, Markus passed a bucket, rotted, derelict, one that could barely hold its shape. Without thinking he grabbed it, rushing to the well pushing past people who stood in his way not caring about them anymore only for his family.

"Move!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, his throat now burning on the inside as he inhaled some of the scalding hot ashes. Barging past some people he quickly attached his bucket to the well and spun the crank as hard as he could, the wood of the crank squealing under the immense twisting he and many others had been doing. As the bucket hit the bottom all that could be heard was the sound of soft sand and splintering, quickly trying to bring it back up but by this point it was too late, the bucket was gone. The rotting wood lying on a pit of sand as the well and the water spring had dried up.

A feeling of dread coming over him as he returned to his house, now barely anything left of it as it collapsed in on itself. The only thing left standing within was the iron supports that were slowly beginning to twist and turn as they began to heat to a melting temperature. Along the street came men on horses, alarm bells ringing in their hands as they plowed a way through the crowd, a sense of panic now turning to a riot as people slowly began to evacuate the burning city. Joining alongside the masses Markus, who now was totally covered in ash, his hair now greyed and looked like dandruff falling from his hair with every step. The city was lost, razed to its foundations, walls began to crumble as Markus exited the city, crushing a group of families and their children, entrapping the rest of Luik to a slow, agonizing death that nobody would push up on anybody.

Outside of the city, the moon was now visible and it illuminated the people walking to safety, reflecting against the lake like a glass mirror. The ripples of which distorted the night's perfect imagery into something far more ominous. A cold wind now encircled the evacuees as they began a long walk to the other cities left in the country. One to the east close to the mountain range that separates the great desert where the Sand Elves lived, another on the coast that held the kingdom's largest port and another in the north which lay on fertile lands much like Luiks. The Kingdom of Jyellik had lost its capital, but the people now stirred with a sense of vengeance, especially within Markus. Who now cursed those that brought harm onto his people and were responsible for the deaths of his parents.

"I'll find them…. I swear. Then I'll deal with them personally!" He said in his mind, his azure blue eyes that were once blind to the dealing of the world now filled with a rage that can't be quenched. Markus made his way down the road to the port city of Hanuk, aiming to make a new life on The Continent, and to hopefully in the future destroy those he swore vengeance against.