There Once Was a Great Flood 1.0

[ATTENTION!

THIS IS A SECTION OF THE PROLOGUE. EVENTS THAT OCCUR IN THIS CHAPTER GIVE CONTEXT TO SOME FUTURE EVENTS IN THE STORY, BUT IT IS NOT IMPORTANT TO START READING WITH THIS CHAPTER. ALL THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLD IN THIS CHAPTER ARE LEGENDS IN THE MAIN STORY.]

The castaway's amber eyes, once aglow with the vibrant spark of life, now mirrored the desolation that surrounded him—dull and dreary. The air was damp and heavy with the stench of decay and despair. From the bow of his dilapidated raft, he gazed out at the infinite expanse of the scarlet sea, the scenery reflecting the darkness that had settled within him.

His shoulders drooped in dejection, and his weary form sank onto the weathered planks of his ramshackle raft, the damp wood beneath him offering little comfort. His bones ached with the relentless motion of the vessel, each creak and groan a reminder of the ceaseless assault from the unforgiving waves. The raft, a mishmash of salvaged debris and weather-beaten wood, seemed to protest its existence as it battled against the tumultuous sea.

Once a desperate creation born out of necessity, the raft now bore the weight of the man's journey and the scars of countless struggles. Its oversized frame, meant to be a sanctuary from the crimson ocean of death, felt tiny and fragile in the vast expanse. It bobbed and swayed like a puppet at the mercy of the tempest, a reluctant dance with the relentless forces that sought to drag him into the abyss.

Each crash of the waves echoed the struggles he faced in life—persistent and unyielding. The sea spray mixed with the tears welling up in his tired eyes, leaving bloody trails down the creases of his worn and weathered copper face. The raft had become a floating purgatory that confined his mind to the very darkness he so wished to evade.

"Jailed before even reaching the prison," he muttered, a bitter edge to his words. His hands clenched into fists before opening in a gesture of helpless surrender. A weary sigh escaped from his cracked and swollen lips, drops of bloody ichor mixing with the despondent breath. His head hung low and spiritless, affording him a full view of his tattered and soiled robes. Even his now-festering wounds gaped at the ruinous scene around him.

"How did I even survive?" he groaned as he rolled onto his right side, a position that he hoped would offer a modicum of relief from the searing pain of his torn flesh. His head uncomfortably rested on the hard wooden logs forming the raft beneath him, the rough surface pressing into his thin and swollen skin, a constant reminder of his misery. His grisly, unkempt beard, rosy with ichor, behaved like a sopping wet rag that persistently threatened to slip into his mouth and choke him to death.

The irony brought a wry smile to his lips. "I avoided drowning in the flood, only to suffocate in my own facial hair. Such an end, who can ever hope to match the legendary tale of Ea, The Oceans of Wisdom?" he chuckled softly, though a sharp hiss of pain escaped him as he did so.

"At least this cell has a companion," he mumbled, his gaze resting on the infant yakshi, the nascent divine soul of a tree deity, that slumbered peacefully, resembling a flawless porcelain doll, nestled amid a cushion of newly sprouted lichen and the roots of the majestic banyan tree at the stern of the raft.

"A thousand years, no time at all," he said with a mimicked tone. "How can Fate be so cruel to an infant? Even a day is far too long a rest for a newborn soul. Such cruel tribulations. The heavens never did harbor much fondness for the gifted," the man spat spitefully. "At least the balance must be maintained. Time will spare you, and Life will preserve you. A thousand years of stasis, lucky you kid," he added with a sardonic chuckle that disrupted the comfort of his recently acquired position.

Groaning again, he rolled onto his back, attempting to mollify his body's burning discontent. Lifting his left hand to his forehead, he finally exhaled a sigh of relief. Gazing into the inky clouds dominating the daytime sky—the perpetual night of the apocalypse—he whispered to himself, "Now, it falls upon me to find a haven where you can weather this storm." He sighed with a tinge of hopelessness, a cough punctuating his resignation.

In the hushed interludes between crashing waves, Ea pondered whether redemption lay beyond the horizon or if this world would always be shrouded in shadows. His lids drooped as the gentle sway of the raft beckoned him toward a well-deserved respite. For a time, it was peaceful; the raft drifted aimlessly, assuming the role of a mournful vessel in an ocean of regrets. But tranquility, however serene, is never eternal. This time was no exception.

As if a celestial bomb had erupted within the watery abyss, a tumultuous surge burst forth from the heart of the ocean, giving birth to a spiraling waterspout soaring towards the heavens. A downpour of liquid silk cascaded upon the ship, tossing the vessel like a helpless plaything in the upheaval. Violently jolted from his slumber, the castaway gasped and sputtered, fiercely battling for breath amid the relentless deluge. The raft pitched and groaned precariously in the turbulent sea, resembling a fragile leaf tossed by tumultuous waves.

Gasping for life, Ea rose on all fours, head hung low in exhaustion, expelling seawater with each tortured breath. He sputtered forth an ancient word, "šà huĝ!"—a command that cut through the cacophony of chaos. For miles around, a dome of sapphire light rose from the sea, nearly reaching the dark clouds above. Under this luminous sanctuary, raindrops descended gently toward the sea, carefully bypassing the raft entirely. The once chaotic sea transformed into a serene expanse, and the waterspout gracefully glided down a towering serpentine frame adorned with pearlescent scales to the tranquil waters below. The entire scene unfolded with hushed reverence, akin to a child cautiously treading around an upset parent, mindful not to disturb the newfound calm after a scolding.

With the water's retreat, only a behemoth remained. The colossus, previously concealed within the confines of the waterspout, now towered majestically above the abyssal sea. Azure radiance twirled upon its imposing form, turning its serpentine body into a tapestry of gem-like lights. The creature exuded regal poise, unperturbed by the prior mayhem or the ensuing calm. It elegantly lowered its head over the piddling raft, casting a looming shadow over the vessel's tiny passenger.