Transcript of my meeting with Surut-al-Miarat, sage of the dust.

«Do you wonder what it is, stranger?» Surut asks, noticing me studying the massive tome with stone pages, stored in a niche.

«It tells of the place I come from, Kesheret. Have you never heard of it?» I assert my ignorance.

«Well... That is a strange land.

A constant wind beats the desolation framed by squarish black mountains, ancient walls grown spontaneously from a ground where plants struggle to take root.

A lukewarm sun defies the canopy of clouds, a ceiling of grey and blue marble that stretches further than the desert.

Scars in the rock open up and swallow the dust and sand, as they are the refuge and oasis of those who flee. In the depths of those chasms, ancient ruins lie forgotten, protected by mad guardians, haunted by the degeneration that condemned them.

Unfortunately, Kesheret is a cursed world.

Mad sages wander around rambling in search of new truths, keys to unlock the doors of revolutionary knowledge. Desperate souls, who do not understand that they are the accomplices of the tragedy that has occurred.

The history of this realm is cruel.

Once upon a time, old angels sailed the skies. Cruel and merciless, soulless and incomplete beings, bound by the dogma that nothing evil could walk the earth.

Once upon a time, young devils lurked in the shade of lush fronds, now gone. Chaotic and brutal, they lived their misery to the full, without limits.

The war was inevitable. It changed the face of the world, hurt its balance and plundered its fertile spirit.

Unfortunately, nobody lost and everybody won.

At the end of the conflict, only a few remained. Corrupted beyond salvation, hungry angels rose from the ashes of the battlefield, perfect hunters who could only feed on the energy that animates every mortal creature.

The perverse offspring of angels and demons was the only answer to the tragedy of the conflict. They called themselves Goltachi and their hunger covered them with shame and regret, knowing that they would have to satiate themselves with the most vile of beings. Their lust stifled their reason, corrupted their principles, poisoned their minds until they became sadistic, cruel and implacable.

Only one miserable insect survived the incessant battles that ravaged even the dust, a creature that fearfully inhabited the most remote places. The power vacuum was its fortune, futility its defence. The human invaded every corner, occupied unprotected fortresses and rose to absolute, though solitary, dominion over a vast and arid void.

Man's empire was short-lived and miserable. The arrogance of this people made them appealing and therefore vulnerable to the appetite of the Goltachi, who swooped down to appease the constant need they suffered.

And so, the eternal war between prey and predator began again, this time on an already wounded land.

I know no more of that primeval time, I'm afraid. It is so far away that the frescos that recounted the catastrophe have fallen to the ground and are the dust that haunts the lands. The only ones who know what really happened are the survivors of the tragedy, who nobody knows where they are.

By now, all that remains are ruins of which no one knows anything, inhabited by mute ghosts, timid whispers of heroic deeds and horrific crimes.

The cities of men are fortresses lit by noisy technology, where humans live locked away to survive the hunters. They inflict captivity on themselves so as not to become slaves.

The Goltachi inhabit near-empty castles, pampered by dehumanized servants, united in factions that hate all others and fight for control of the herds.

Ah... Kesheret. A cursed world. No one was worthy of salvation when I left. So many fled when the opportunity arose, I do not know what ever happened to my people.

But if you are curious... know that I possess a unique artifact, an object that will allow you to see what is happening in that damned realm even now.

Be careful, though, stranger. What you see may come as a shock to you...»