Naren walked through the courtyard of ash. Each step blew little flakes of ash into the air. Ash fell from the sky, burying the dead, the dying, the decaying, in a cloud of grey. He walked to the edge of the courtyard and looked down to the city of the dead.


    The ash covered everything. Small fires raged in some portions of the city, but the ash would soon snuff them out as well. It was quiet, too quiet. The quiet of the dead. A passerby might, assume the city was sleeping, but even then, the city would not be so quiet. Naren felt about as alive as the ones, he had crossed on his way here.


    It was not always like this, thought Naren. It was once the jewel of an empire. An empire, the likes of which the world had never seen before and never will. An empire that stretched beyond the mountains in the west to the south, where the land met the great sea.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Naren would have cried if there was anything left within him. He had become a shell after a lifetime of fighting. His body ached, the cuts across his body burned with a sharp pain, but the sensation like all others was dulled. These days, he did not feel much.


    He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. How many months had it been since he had slept peacefully? Without dreams. Without those questioning eyes. Those haunting eyes that always asked the same question – Why?


    “It’s about time you slept, father.” Naren heard his son’s voice.