Ma-ek stepped off the boat onto the dock, the heavy weight on his shoulder emitted a faint grunt at the steep drop step. He looked around in the growing dawn, as the fishermen ran about with their recent catches, setting up stalls and signs. The smell of fresh fish and squid hung in the air, the recent storm having swept clean the area of yesterday’s catch. Ma-ek turned, headed toward the fort overlooking the whole of the island. It stood tall and proud against the fires of the morning sky, giving shelter to us all. It truly was the Mother bear, the protector of this young city. His home, Megarkos. He stood in the middle of the street by the dock. the sights and sounds swirling around him in such a rush that time seemed to stop. He thought back to how he got here. How they all came to be here under the watch of this ancient keep.

His early childhood was unremarkable for his clan. Fishermen and Traders, they sailed the coasts of the Napat sea. His family grew and flourished on the island called Hekeh ruled by the Hekian City state on the south eastern side of them. Their nation was in the crystal blue waters off the southern tip of the continent of Jambu. Women and children spent their days in the water diving for pearls, while the men went out in their boats with nets and spears to catch tuna and sharks that got close enough to haul in. Travel to the towns and cities on the mainland among the Cu-acus was common, with ships coming from as far north as the mouth of the Great River sea. News traveled with the trade winds and many mythical tales were able to be told in the inns and around the campfires to wide-eyed stares from locals, especially their children. The tales they told of Orcs and Trolls who lived in the north, past the mouth of the Great River sea, in the land of the giant crimson wood trees. How they were big and loud and strong. Our sailors never ventured any closer due to superstitions of slavery and cannibalism.

Ma-ek was around seven seasons old when some news came to him from his friend, Enkha. Enkha was a girl who lived across the street from him. Their families had actually planned for them to get married. Not that either of the children even understood the concept. They were fast friends and as thick as thieves. She came to their hiding spot in the clearing behind his house one day, visibly upset, with worry painted across her features. She ran over to him as he was setting up their wooden swords for adventure and battle in the land of the orcs. The dry ground crunched behind him before she spoke.

“Ma, there is a new man in town. He is telling dark things about a mountain to the south. He said the mountain was growing, puffing up like a frog, and animals lay dead on the beaches with not a mark on them.” She was shaking with small tears running down her cheeks at this point. Ma-ek, however, was stunned, a swell of dread lifting his stomach high into his chest.

“There had been earth shakes recently,” he thought to himself as he pulled Enkha to him to try and protect her, an instinct he didn't know he had. Quietly into his chest she spoke, just above a whisper.

“I don't think he is lying. I heard some of the adults whispering among themselves where they thought I couldn't hear. They say this isn't the first time he has visited, it isn't the first warning.” She pushed away, suddenly angry. “If this wasn't the first time he was here warning us, how many times has he been here without us doing anything?” The scared girl nearly vibrated with energy as her wild eyes looked around in fear, as if the world was closing in. “I wanted to tell you, before I warned Mother and Father.” With that she took off running, like the wind itself was carrying her.

Ma-ek stood dumbly after Enkha left him alone in the clearing. He started to walk towards home, slowly following the path she ran off on. “I know the Earthshakes have everyone on edge, but what was that all about? What was so different about this person that had Enkha so scared?” Ma-ek scratched his head in wonder. “Why were girls so weird?”

He walked to his back door, the smell of cooking fish wafting out of the window. His mother sang as his father worked on his fishing spear by the table. Humming along with her to the same old song his mother sang, a tale of sea monsters and the ocean swallowing the earth whole. It was a song that Ma-ek loved, it comforted him even if it seemed to be about the worst things. His mother would sing it to him before he slept.

“Up the hill they ran, from the anger of Napata.

His wrath did spread, among the dead.

As those who survive climb higher.”

The tone was light and beautiful, but the words were dark and foreboding. It always stood out to Ma-ek.

“Mother, Father? Enkha said she saw a man down in the market this morning. He was talking about a smoking mountain, dead animals and scaring everyone.” The parents stopped and shared a look many Human parents throughout time have shared. One that communicated danger and fear, covered in a vernier of strength.

“Well, what do you think, Ma?” His father asked, looking him in the eyes. “You know the stories that come through the market, you know what the traders say. What makes this man so special, or what he says?”

Ma-ek looked back at his father, threatening to wilt, he gathered himself and spoke. “It’s not what I think that bothers me, it’s what Enkha thinks or how she acted, I mean.” Ma-ek scratched the back of his neck, not daring to look away from his father. “I haven't ever seen her like this before, if she believes him enough to be that scared. She must have a feeling in her gut. Like you do when you feel danger, Father.

His father studied him for a minute. Eyes piercing into him, as if reading his thoughts, which was something his father had always seemed to be able to do. “I am not sure what to make of him myself, boy. I will tell you that much. Tomorrow I plan to confront him before he vanishes or slinks off back to whatever hole he crawled out of. I hate prophets, the lot of them. Everything they say is death this and sorrow that. The islands to the southeast ALWAYS smoke, they always have and they always will!”

He stood, punching his fists down onto the table. The pieces and tools he used scattered to the floor. His face red and lined, with what at first Ma-ek thought was anger, only to realize it was tiredness and frustration. “Tomorrow, after I confront this man, If he speaks true We sail north to a stronghold my grandfather's-father spoke of, an attempt at a foolish Hekish noble trying to trade with the Orcs to the north. It's built on higher ground then He is, so we can avoid any catastrophe this prophet is going on about. Does that satisfy you, Ma? I’m flexible, Like I have always told you, no plan survives the enemy. Even if that enemy is your wife!”

He smiled and winked at Mother, an almost real smile that couldn't quite make it to his eyes. Ma-ek shuddered a little, unable to shake the images of monsters and Dai-wa's wrath. How terrible must the gods be to provide every lesson with the loss of so much life. Ma-ek went to sleep that night with little concern, the night was cool and smelled of the distant smoking mountains.

A silence unlike Ma-ek had experienced before stirred him from his sleep. He opened his eyes, looking around, awake so suddenly that it was startling. Something in the back of his mind was screaming and he had no idea about what. His heart pounding, he jumped out of his bed and threw his loose-fitting robe on. In the process tripping and falling flat on the floor, after the initial shock the floor began to shake so violently that he was flopping up and down on his bedroom floor. He did his best to hold on to the floor, but in a matter of seconds, it was over. Dazed, he went to stand, but before he could get upright, a sound he had never heard before roared from all around. So strong was the sound and wind that Dai-wa ripped their roof from the walls in one swift, violent action. The beams cracked as the roof struck the house next door. The roar continued, but by that time, Ma-ek was huddled under his blanket and doing his best to cover his ears. At last, the only sound that could be heard was Ma-ek's screaming as he shook and cried under the blankets of his destroyed room.

He awoke sometime later, with the straw from his roof laid in piles around the room. It was still dark outside, the night flowing ominously red to the south-east. Easily discernible to the naked eye and threatening in its intensity. Ma-ek ran into the cook room, searching for his parents. He found his mother getting up from under some straw and shaking it out of her hair. Ma-ek turned and ran out the front door, the one with the beautiful view of the ocean and Napata's Mountain home, far to the south. The whole horizon was on fire, it seemed, with huge arcs of angry red lightning, immense glowing boulders erupted outward, with liquid fire dancing on the horizon.

In front of him, Ma-ek's father stood square to the carnage. His shoulders angular and strong, the glow from the hellscape illuminated his face, even though the mountain was many days sailing to the south-east, it was as bright as the dawn sun cresting the horizon. Tears openly streamed down his face as he scowled at the sight and rage danced behind his eyes. He turned to Ma-ek, his look as hard as the iron hammered at the city's blacksmith. In that instant, the world exploded again as an unheard piece of molten wrath came crashing down into the center on Enkha's house. Rather then boom, it hissed like a Makara in the rivers of Jumba. A white cloud erupted from the center, smelling foul of animal gases. His father spoke to him.

“Boy, I'll grab your mother, you go find Enkha and her family. Be quick and be fast, we don't have much time.”

Ma-ek stared up at his father, dazed in wonder. He didn't react for a handful of heartbeats, before breaking out into a run towards Enkha's house across the wide road splitting their neighborhood down the middle. His feet slapped on the packed hard street as dust and ash kicked up in his wake. The air was thick with fine ash and dust from the hot wave of air from the explosion of Napat's home. Ma-ek stumbled, but gained his footing with enough time to catch himself on the still standing doorway. The interior of the home was a smoking crater of debris and burnt pieces of flesh and bone. The melting ball of liquid stone still settled in the crater it left behind, sizzling and crackling when it came into contact with anything flammable. Ma-ek stopped breathing, his mind fitting every piece together like a macabre puzzle. Finally, he let out a pitiful barely audible squeak and collapsed to his knees. His brain played over and over the same phrase, “Everyone was home, they are all dead.”

Almost to confirm his fears, he watched the glowing orange rock envelope, a doll that looked like it was still clutched in a child's hand. His ears rang, and his pulse raced, and the world started to spin when all together his dinner came up, spilling out his mouth. He rested there on his hands and knees, the ringing still present but a more insistent sound started to overpower it. Ma-ek looked up in time to see his father and mother running at him. Behind them, a huge wall of water rose above the far edge of the city. He could almost hear the roar of Napat making landfall as buildings split and were rented from their foundations. The story replaced all sound in his mind, his father grabbing his left arm and leg tight and foisting him high on his shoulders while at a dead run. Ma-ek heard the song’s words chasing after them.

“Up the hill they ran, from the anger of Napata.

His wrath did spread, among the dead.

As those who survive climb higher.”