Story by Mikaa
Characters by Camelot and Nintendo
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or world presented in this story (the rightful owners are Nintendo and Camelot).
Warning: This story is rated T for Teen, primarily for violence and descriptive gore, with mild language thrown in. You have been warned.
Chapter 1 - Apocalypse
It was begun.
The air was thick with moisture, the rising water filling the air in small particles as it filled the black clouds of darkness in the sky. No sun light, no stars, no moon. The only natural illumination was the barrage of lightning that bolted from the sky at erratic intervals. The few plants that had not succumbed to the Draining faced a harsher reality: no water. The very ground was dry and hot, the only liquid flowing was that of molten rock from the world's core. Winds of high velocity stripped the earth of any outcroppings, from dead (or dying) trees to houses.
Only four artificial structures withstood the nightmare that created this living hell: four towers, one for each of the elements that had been manipulated into creating the very state of the world, the death of the world.
Calling it the death of the world was misleading. The "world" that died was the one that conventional living beings inhabited. The life of mortals, and their world, were extinguished much as they had countless times before. Every time, the same tale: mortals tried to take the life of the world, its very essence, to build their own selfish piece of the world in their image. And every time, the world would eventually lash back, setting in sequence events that would rebuild the world anew, like the phoenix.
It had become a constant thing, occuring so much that the world itself had long forgotten how to exist if the world was at rest, if none dared it harm. But it had long become used to the pattern of having to start over after so long a period. So regular the pattern was that the world ignored the messages it recieved from the guardian, so used to the same cycle that it could not concieve a change in any way to its purpose.
And, for not having heard the guardian, the world enacted its regular routine of destruction, eliminating another wave of creation. It would take endless eternities for life to come back, but it was always the same: the molten rocks would carve out rivers once the rains returned, the rivers would fertilize the earth with the small life that survived the cataclysm, and then what life had survived before would compete with the new life.
It was a cycle that never saw an end. The world never cared anymore, having been blinded by pain for so long. It would not be until the guardian took matters into its own hands that the cycle would see a change.
But then, what could change the instinctive will of an entire world?
End of Chapter