The rose bush trembled in the wind, almost as if it was expecting something
to happen. And it was, that every day, that very hour when the entire world
was still. It was only one moment, but it was still a moment of complete
and utter uncertainty and peace. No warning of what was to come.
The ancients had prophesised this moment, the moment when the course of life was to be changed, but it was as most things are. Truth turned into legend, legend into myth, and this in turn became thin threads of nothingness, brushed aside in the hustle and bustle of life.
The great mountain, which was born from the very pain of Mother Earth, the very essence of her suffering, shuddered. Misery and hate had created it, and therefore its reason for existence was to cause it. It was to this mountain that the rose bush clung, a riot of colour amongst the deadness of the mountain. It, too, had been created by Mother Earth, so that her wrath was released on the world, not all would be lost. For she loved the world, though not necessarily the humans who seemed to think they owned it.
The sky turned black, blacker than the sinister magic of the Salison Witches. The birds lost track of day, and vultures chased the sun away. All light was sucked from the earth, not even the moon cast its eerie light.
This great blackness was to last five days, and then. then would come pain, disease, hate. Death. These five days would determine the survival of the world, or the end of it. Who controlled this outcome? Humans, the very cause of this threat, that's who. They had taken the earth and cast it into their world, a world of pollution and ruin, and a world where money and power meant all.
Mother Earth knew when she had created the mountain, that not all humans were like this, and that's why she created the rose bush, the hope of humanity. In this rose bush was the power to save life on earth, but only humans could unleash this power. The person chosen for this, although she did not know it, was Makali.
The ancients had prophesised this moment, the moment when the course of life was to be changed, but it was as most things are. Truth turned into legend, legend into myth, and this in turn became thin threads of nothingness, brushed aside in the hustle and bustle of life.
The great mountain, which was born from the very pain of Mother Earth, the very essence of her suffering, shuddered. Misery and hate had created it, and therefore its reason for existence was to cause it. It was to this mountain that the rose bush clung, a riot of colour amongst the deadness of the mountain. It, too, had been created by Mother Earth, so that her wrath was released on the world, not all would be lost. For she loved the world, though not necessarily the humans who seemed to think they owned it.
The sky turned black, blacker than the sinister magic of the Salison Witches. The birds lost track of day, and vultures chased the sun away. All light was sucked from the earth, not even the moon cast its eerie light.
This great blackness was to last five days, and then. then would come pain, disease, hate. Death. These five days would determine the survival of the world, or the end of it. Who controlled this outcome? Humans, the very cause of this threat, that's who. They had taken the earth and cast it into their world, a world of pollution and ruin, and a world where money and power meant all.
Mother Earth knew when she had created the mountain, that not all humans were like this, and that's why she created the rose bush, the hope of humanity. In this rose bush was the power to save life on earth, but only humans could unleash this power. The person chosen for this, although she did not know it, was Makali.