Age Recommendation: 16+
Following Priestess of Ozandius, humanity is on the brink of extinction.
Famine and plague sweep the countrysides, leading rise to travelling mages. One mage plying her trade is Dyys.
However, someone from her past has been sent to find her, bind her, and drag her back to hell.
A woman stood, overlooking the burned out land. Her hair was blood red, and braided. It hung down her back, almost passed her knees. She wore simple work pants, and a dirt-stained loose shirt. Around her waist was a scaled belt.
She sighed heavily, looking at the ruins of the farm. The fires had scorched through here badly. The calamity. The skies had burned, and poisonous stones had fallen from the sky. The entire mortal world had nearly been lost in the chaos. The kingdoms were surviving, so far. However, most farms were like this. No livelihoods. Nothing to feed the family, let alone ship to the cities and other survivors.
She leaned on the fence post, "It's like this, from here to Nal'farah. Everywhere I've been. Hells, half the cities I've been to were in worse shape. Most were empty. A few had bandits, but even they were starving."
The farmer nodded grimly, "I hear it isn't much better in the cities that survived the calamity. We have to stick together, afterwards... I can offer you a bed, but not much more than that. The well went dry two days ago. I think one of the impacts broke the clay layer."
Dyys nodded, "That sounds about right. Well. I think... I'll help you."
The farmer glanced at her, "Eh?"
She jumped over the fence, and crouched down besides a spot in the dead soil. She put a hand over it, "You planted seed. You were hopeful."
"Ground's shit." The farmer sighed, "There's no nutrients. No water. Nothing will ever grow here again. Cherkevand is dead."
She stood up slowly, holding her hand with spread fingers. "I don't know about that."
The man started in shock, staring at the single wheat stalk tickling her hand. She smiled at him, "I know mages have a bad rep. But in times like these..."
The farmer shook his head, "In times like these, I don't care. Mages fight wars. If you ain't a fighter, and now you're healing the land... I couldn't be happier to have you under my roof. Can you do it again?"
Dyys sighed, looking out across the field, "Sure. It'll take me a couple days to revive this field. Maybe a week for the surrounding ones as well. I reckon a month, and this whole farm might be running."
The farmer laughed, "You're hopeful. We got no water. A month, we'll all be dead or gone."
"I can fix that too." She shrugged, holding her hand over the new plant. Droplets of water fell from her fingertips. They glistened as the splashed onto the parched ground. "There's plenty of water in the air. Dragging it out isn't so hard."
The man nodded slowly, "You been doing this? From Nal'farah to here?"
She nodded, "For a roof over my head, and food on my plate. That's all I ask for. I'll provide the food."
He smiled at her, "You're welcome to stay, stranger."
"Call me Dyys." She grinned at him.
© Copyright 2024, James Milne