Chapter Text
We always knew what the King was thinking.
From the first moment our terracotta skin was imbued with the magic of Mezalea, we felt our ruler's presence without stop. Though the kings and queens that ruled would pass, their legacy survived in us, the last tennent of their touch. Their presence was featherlight on us yet bore down without pause. It was soft and kind, a guiding voice that told us what to do.
Whatever instruction we were given, we performed without hesitance or complaint. We didn’t have a will of our own, so completing tasks was our primary function. In that cess of our minds, the King's voice would rumble through us, giving us instruction. Whatever he said we would do, for his will was the most important thing in the world to us.
When he asked us to clean the Great Hall, we would complete the task without pause or mistake. From the moment his mind conjured an action in need of completion, the task was already delegated to the statue he spoke to. We all heard it and did as he said, fetching buckets of water and scrubbing the floor until it was spotless and smooth. He wanted us to clean, so cleaning was the most important thing in the world; until he had something else for us to do.
The azalea bushes that lined the pathway to the castle needed to be trimmed. We delegated the task and trimmed until the bush was perfectly neat. Whatever he wanted of us became the sole care of our existence. He was our maker, and we adored him.
Serving our King was our sole purpose, and we would never stray from that path.
Not that we would ever vocalize this, of course. Though we were many in numbers, statues eons older than any living being in Mezalea, our terracotta was hollow and our voices echoed only inside. Not a word that we spoke would escape our forms, forever a secret among us. None alive, certainly not our King, knew of our deep connection to ourselves. Even if he or anyone did, they would never be able to conceptualize us.
Our connection to ourselves ran deeper perhaps than any immortal or god could understand. All of Mezalea, its noble lineage of rulers and ancient histories, were marked on our skin. Intricate geometric patterns and figures were painted onto us, displaying the stories of Mezaleas past on our cracked terracotta.
Deeper more, was the magic of Mezalea. From the first ruler who took of the Mother Trees magic and sculpted the first of us, the enchanted essence swirled just beneath our surface. It imbued us with our existence.
Serving Mezalea was our purpose. It was no burden, rather a privilege and gift. We were glad to wait on the civilians of Mezalea and observe their lives, for it was ever fascinating to watch how they worked. They were so bright and new, basking in the majesty of life. And clever, wickedly clever, though never cleverer than us. No, they were not clever enough to grasp the vast infinity of our existence, but we didn’t hold it against them.
They were simple. They couldn’t help it.
We had faced disaster before.
Great storms that tore the roofs off of houses. Fierce winds that swept choking dust into lungs. Scorching drought that burnt all life it encountered. We have endured thousands of disasters and overcome them without fear for ourselves. Our concern was always for our ruler, and we ensured they would be saved.
The Rapture had been unlike anything we had ever encountered before.
We had all been in Mezalea when it occurred, tending to our instruction as was demanded of us. Some of us were in the castle, others in the garden. Most of us were in the town, working alongside the people in the concrete factory. The day had been utterly ordinary, no indication of anything to draw concern.
The people were happy. Our king was happy. We were happy.
And then, far away, we felt something shifting within and around us. No one else seemed to notice, carrying on with their actions like usual. But all of us felt something was amiss, our minds buzzing with thoughts.
We asked each other what it could have been. None of us had an answer. All we knew was whatever was doing something to us, something no normal mortal could. No, what we felt was deep, older than any alive and rooted in the unchanging nature.
It was magic.
Before we had the chance to articulate the sudden disturbance, the sound of an explosion far away fumbled over the hills. We, as everyone did, froze at the noise, trying to decipher what had just occurred. We asked ourselves if it was someone lighting tnt, but the explosion had a distinct distance to it. An explosion of that density would surely wreak havoc far beyond its impact point.
The idea was quickly proven true as hefty winds crashed over the hills and ripped into Mezalea, kicking up the orange sand as it moved. We braced ourselves as the sandy wind whipped over us, grinding the soles of our feet into the ground to keep ourselves from falling over. Those of us indoors found more success than those outside, who were toppled over by the strong gusts.
Practically everything that wasn’t properly secured crashed to the floor, leaving a trail of broken pottery and ripped out plants throughout the kingdom. Many citizens found themselves on the floor as well, unable to find a surface to hold themselves against when the wind billowed through with reckless abandon. The sound of screams and shattered belongings falling to the floor filled the kingdom, an incessant screech of howling terror .
We remained still as the winds passed, slowly lowering our hands as we beheld the destruction before us. Practically every window in Mezalea had been shattered, a sea of broken glass lining the paved streets. All around us, the citizens were shaking, still covering themselves in fear of a second round of destruction.
Away in the castle, the rattling of the ornate crystal chandelier in the Grand Hall made us turn our heads upwards. Far up, we could see the crystals shaking, the rattling sound resounding like some fierce spector. With a lurch, the chandelier fell several feet down, the crown molding holding it in place cracking as the chain that held it was pulled downward. The chandelier swung from side to side, crystals flying off from the movement and crashing to the floor, shattering on impact. Abandoning our cleaning supplies, we took off down the carpet towards the entrance, our feet kicking up the carpet as we ran. While most of us managed to avoid the crash, one of us was not so fortunate. The chandelier pierced through our terracotta skin, shattering the pottery and sending its remains scattered across the carpet. We stared at our dead body, watching as the crystals on the metal beam that pierced us jingled.
Our Kings voice spoke from his study, asking what had happened. Even if we could speak to him, none of us could give him answer. Whatever had occurred was something old and powerful, something that required an intensive investigation. We lacked the tools to complete such an action yet, so we waited for him to give us instruction.
Slipping out through his study entrance, our King descended down the stairs towards us. We straightened our backs at his approach, pointing out the destruction. He grimaced at the sight before telling us to open the gates. He was to travel to Spawn to attend a meeting with the other rulers. Acting on his orders, we grabbed the lever that connected to the door and pulled on it, the large oak doors creaking as they were pulled apart. Our King unfurled the wings of his elytra, the pale silver feathers reflecting the sunlight that streamed in. He adjusted the straps that held the elytra to his back, the wings ruffling slightly, before taking off like a rocket. A trail of firework smoke was left in his wake as he arched towards the sun, growing smaller and smaller, until he flew out of view.
The moment disappeared from our sight, a deep rumbling erupted throughout the kingdom. As if the gods themselves were shaking the earth on which Mezalea rested upon, the kingdom moved with a force never seen before. Every object not bolted down crashed to the floor, the sound of destruction filling the air. Even when we tried to stabilize ourselves, every surface slipped out of reach. Shattering on the floor was an unpleasant experience for us, our skin cracking to pieces as our essences left to join our other bodies in our advanced existence. The sight of our broken bodies was equally unappealing, the shards of terracotta spilling out and creating sharp hazards for the
Worse yet were the screams, haunting and desperate. No one was spared the terror from the earthquakes; cries of pain emitted from those who were caught under gravity’s sway. The earthquake had dislodged practically every heavy object in the kingdom and sent them crumbling down. There was no escape from those who were close to them, often being crushed by the falling object.
The earth jolted for almost thirty seconds, ripping the earth and buildings apart. Harsh sinkholes began to form on the surface, swallowing everything from wagons to buildings to people. Many buildings began to collapse from the shaking, roofs caving in on the unsuspecting civilians inside. Debris and dust quickly amassed on the streets, making movement difficult. In only so short a time, Mezalea was almost unrecognizable.
With one final surge, the earthquake ceased, the great rumbling residing as we found final pause. Finally able to stand once more, we searched around the destruction in search of the tasks we were supposed to complete. We would have begun them at once, were it not for a deep rush through us. A languished song rippled over our bodies and mind, echoing in our hollow chests and filling every crevice of our being. The song crooned out a haunting tune as the deep wails of magic retracted into the earth. We followed it down, passing through the clay and moss to the roots of the Mother Tree.
Of course, we understood.
She had saved us from the great disaster.
But not without great cost.
The Mother Tree was dying.
And Mezalea soon with it.