Prisoner of Azrath

My hands are burning. It feels like a lake of fire against my palms, slowly spreading like a wild fire unto my arms and then to my sweaty bronze body, it had been like this the last century and the one before that too. I knew it. Something was happening outside, beyond the jade door that locked me into this cramped room called a prison.

As i cower in a pain all too familiar, i reminisce of what once had been under the loving embrace of the sun.

I still remember the sweet honeygrass against my cool fingertips, where the sun never burned my hands and left marks that sizzle into the night. Instead, it had reached to my hand and entwined it with its dazzling rays, pulling me in for a warm orange embrace. Those days were the era of Kosh, the empire was one of prosperity, where people rejoiced and sung their praises to the sun. Worshipping Him as their beloved god.

I had been planting the last batch of seeds unto my fields one early summer morning, the sun was as dazzling and warm as ever. I had always been thankful to the sun since I could remember, where it helped me grow my crops into a lushful harvest. The wind blew gently across as though accompanying my children down the fields with their sunny smiles. They were playing with a bright red kite up into the sky. They had been excited since the night before, praying to the moon about their cute little adventures the past year.

Through the announcement of the temple's prophets from the capital City of Kosh, it was known that the Luhin was to occur in the first month of summer, where the moon would tell the sun of the events of man, and when the sun was pleased of the moon's report, the sun shined its greatest splendor. I bet my children eagerly told the moon about their hike to a nice stream up front every morning, and how they played with the goats and chickens right after.

I could have ran around the fields with my children while wearing the flower crowns I taught them to make that morning. But the moon had to report humanity's accomplishments, and I still was planting the last and final seed. The meeting between sun and moon was brief, the skies darkened and the moon sat in front of the sun, telling Him of man that past year. However, after the moon's report, the sun seemed to be mad of man that past year. The sun shrunk and compressed into a mad red glow. It was as though the sun was punishing us, and kept reminding us of his displease when his rays struck us with a hotter and subtly hurtful red glow.