• It is an irrevocable truth that war was always a game played by the gods of men. A redundancy begun by the holiest of kings and played by their loyal pawns, who then revolt and replace their holy king for one who drags them to a pit below the former; daylight burning up their wasted lives, thrown like cockroaches at one another,. Their spilled life will shine in the daylight, forever. That is the history of the human race in full. That is the greatest truth ever to be hidden from the hearts of modern men. Only present in past dreams, in the thoughts that were forcibly taken from them.

    When the system of a single king was rendered unfruitful it was the duty of the pawns to bring change to their new world. Thus all became kings. Then the name of pawn was lost; none was above another. And all became gods. They saw their fresh world; a new age was upon them, a time to build upon the solid foundation of nothing. That was all they had left at the time.

    It was a summer evening in Snowshill.

    “How wonderful is the smell of nature at this time of day!” said Aria cheerfully.

    She surveyed the farm’s land. The wind whistled through the fields of grain, and as the sun went to rest it gave a last ray of light, turning the brown field into a range of gold, enclosed by a pot of emerald.

    “How absurd it is to call the works of the earth wonderful,” said Salazar while sniffing. He was a grand cynic but didn’t really mean to be; Aria was used to it.

    They sat. The sky was of three shades of purple and two of red. But the darkness caught up. It caught up and it swallowed the heavens.

    “It’s funny; the sky is most lovely right before it’s lost,” she said.

    “Nature’s all the same. A cycle of beauty and death,” said Salazar, “but inside it’s really just as ugly as it smells, and it certainly smells odd.”

    “So you don’t think that was a beautiful sight?”

    “I think only humans can make beautiful things.”

    They lay on the brown fields looking up at the empty sky. Stars now were popping up in the dark sheet above them, gently tearing holes of light into the dark and lonely night.