There is a world so vast
We cannot comprehend
Yet we wonder endlessly
About our existence
One cannot know
This familiar place
Except to recognize how unfamiliar
It becomes with time
The winds show us the direction
Of our mortality
And like the winds we must pass on
Fading into a breath; inaudible
The wind dies
The land is still
Here we are

-Here We Are by Jade Sahnna

Date ∞ Falon 11:5200 AoW

Arroya, my sister, was reading to me when my vision came.  We had just come in from the fields.  The crops were almost ready. We had a good year and harvesting would be a pleasant chore, yielding enough food to carry us through to the following winter. Life was good.  We were content. 

I remember sipping a cup of violetra tea and the smell of Arroya’s baked dasheendi emanating from the oven, just before the whirlwind came.  I could still hear her voice in the distance as she read.

“Shinte was an able father and steadfast husband. The children loved him for his kindness and generosity. He would take them to the river often, running with them like a child reborn,” she read as I faded into the images that would soon steal me from the present.

The darkness quickly engulfed me and the ground began to shake violently.  As the blackness gave way to light, I saw dust fill the room.  Through the fading darkness and rising dust, I heard Arroya call to me.

“Crote? What’s wrong? Crote! No, not again, this can’t be happening again,” she cried as her voice trailed off into the distance.

Screaming rushed in from all around.  Chairs fell and pots rattled from the ceiling as the ground rose and cracked, revealing billions of years of history through the many layers of soil and rock.  Steam rose from the cracks, climbing steadily to the ceiling of our now crumbling house.  I turned to glance out the window.  Men, women and children ran in all directions, covering their eyes and shielding their heads from the debris that flew all around.  My village was being destroyed. But how? And why?  I knew I had to find shelter quickly. I looked around for Arroya, I called to her, but she was gone. I ran to the door.  What I saw bore no resemblance to the village I knew.  Debris that fell from the sky lay amidst rag dolls, abandoned easels and freshly dipped paintbrushes. Dwellings crumbled to the ground as though built from straw and sand.  I called to my brothers and sisters, beseeching them to run to the valley, they would be safe there.  No one responded. It seemed they couldn’t hear me, or see me.  The women fell to their knees, crying and screaming, begging for the prophecy to be wrong. Begging for the ancestors to save them.  I looked up at the sky.  One of our suns, Brilios, was gone. It exploded in the abyss of space, sending debris sailing through the cosmos and plummeting to our planet. I watched as molten rocks, flying like meteors, crashed into its sister, Lumstra, destroying it.  The sky went black and a chill passed over our village, cloaking us in the inevitability of our demise. I felt the cries of a million lives lodged in my throat.  And as the tears rolled down my face I could feel the spirits of my ancestors cry out in pain.  I don’t remember when I started to scream, but it was then that Arroya grabbed me, pleading for me to calm down. 

“Crote, please, it’s ok. Calm down,” she cried, while shaking me to awareness.

Behind tear filled eyes, Arroya relayed the prophecy the ancestors shared with me.  She recounted all that I could not recall in detail. Tangania would be destroyed at the next half moon. And all Tangi would die, unless we found a new home.

My name is Crote.  My people, the Tangi, saw me as a prophesier, the bringer of the destruction of our world. I wanted to hide the truth, but my visions always robbed me of control. When they came, I fell into a whirlwind, plummeting deep into the blackness that preceded the prophecy. This legacy, this gift, or what my brothers would call the power, was like a plague cast down on my people and a burden upon my spirit.  Images of the future overwhelmed me, grabbing hold of reality and propelling it forward.  I saw events and faces that stood in a time unknown to me, yet they were clear. The physical foray that threatened to drain my life force was always a distant memory I was forced to hear from those present. Many witnessed the near possession of my body that accompanied the visions. They said it was like a dozen spirits entered me and spoke through me, transporting my soul to a cosmic memory beyond my years and imagination. 

This gift of foresight was gradually transforming into a curse.  What many claimed was my birthright, passed down to me from my ancestors from the old world, was an intrusion. It consumed my night dreams, leaving me bereft of sleep.  My days were spent warding off the images that bombarded my mind, constantly opening the window of the future, ultimately, the future of our planet.  I found it impossible to subdue these visions that wrapped themselves around our village, claiming the destiny of my people.  I was not prepared for the destruction to come. And I wondered, with a deep sadness that engulfed my spirit, and an endless fear and dismal feeling of loss, where would a race of immortals find solitude?