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On their tenth birthday, every child of The Mounds is told the same story. They are taken to the plateau to the North, and told to gaze out over the lush forests, the Twin Cherry peaks, and a sky filled with stars of every color on the spectrum. Their stark campsite would remain dark, frost forming on their meager blankets, with only fear and awe offered to fend off the chill of the night air, enough to send tremors through their skin and bones, shaking them warm. The elders would speak of the past…
Generations ago, a Cataclysm occurred. Fire rained from the sky, melting the landscape into new formations. The Earth, having been violently shocked awake, finally aware of being poisoned and pillaged, opened up its many mouths to swallow civilization. Storms raged, species died, and the sun went black for countless years. Ancestors watched as the world they knew crumbled around them, and they were left to learn how to live in peace with the ground under their feet, with the swaying limbs and snowy peaks above them, and the crashing waves of unfamiliar coasts. As the sun slowly relit, the elders told of dawn’s return, of beginning to build where comfort could be found.
