Jemriah valemount
The sea around Aravan island never slept. It breathed, A slow, tidal inhalation against black stone cliffs, as though the world itself brooded upon unfinished wars. Wind came salted and cold across the terrace where Jemriah stood with his son, sonavr. Far from Aegis Reach. Far from the smoke and banners. Far from the throne his father, king kaisran had claimed.
"Waters of shina. Home to krakens and other sea creatures. Sea folks as well," jemriah said, shrugging. "Will you be fine? Once you're ready to cross, are you going to be fine?"
Jemriah did not turn, his gaze on the sea, hard and contemplating his son's worth.
"I'll be honest, father. I am scared... Is that too cowardly for a kid who wants to be an adventurer?"
"If you'd asked me when i was in capital, i would've said yes... But now, i will say that being scared of doing something new is common, happens to the best of us. Happened to me in battle of liberation too."
"Father," Sonvar asked, his voice nearly carried away by the surf below, "what happened at the Battle of Liberation?"
Jemriah rested his hands upon a boulder. The island's lighthouse burned behind them, a lonely star against the darkening sky.
"We are far from home," jemriah said. His tone betraying his face.
"I...know."
"No," jemriah replied softly. "You do not."
He crouched beside his son and unfurled the painted canvas from his sleeve. The image caught the dying light: dragons in descent, knights broken and rising, the capital aflame.
"That," he said, tapping the distant walls in the painting, "is Aegis Reach. Your grandfather's city. The heart of five continents before it knew it would be."
Sonvar traced the smoke with a hesitant finger. "It looks like the world is ending."
"It did," Jemriah answered. "For many."
"The sea smells different here," Sonavr murmured.
"Yes," jemriah said, half-smiling. "Here it smells of freedom and solitude but... There, on that day, it smelled like ash."
Jemriah pointed upward in painting.
"King Amren came with storm on his heels. The Khorin tribe rode beneath him. And above them… five dragons."
"Are they truly still alive?"
Jemriah's jaw tightened. "Tales say they cross the five continents even now. Shadows without masters. I do not know whether that is truth… or guilt given wings."
"They were magical?" Sonavr asked, curiosity glinting from his eyes.
"Forged things," Jemriah said. "Not beasts born of egg and sky, but wrought by will. Their scales turned steel. Their breath erased men. I saw knights vanish mid-cry. No bones. No cinders."
Sonvar shivered despite the island warmth.
"And we stood alone," Jemriah continued. "No banners answered our call. No neighboring king marched to our aid. They watched. They waited to see which corpse would crown itself."
He gestured toward a lone figure on a rise in the painting.
"That is Grothan."
"Your teacher?"
"Our sword-master. The only man who ever struck me hard enough to teach humility."
Sonvar leaned closer. "He looks small compared to the dragons."
"He was," Jemriah admitted. "But small things cut deepest."
"When the first dragon descended," Jemriah said, voice low as the surf, "our men faltered. I faltered. The sky itself seemed to press us into the earth."
"What did Grothan do?"
"He spat blood and laughed," Jemriah replied. "He told us: If the sky falls, we will teach it to bleed."
Sonvar's eyes widened.
"He leapt from the battlements onto the dragon's spine. Enchanted scale split beneath his blade. I remember the sound... like iron screaming. He rode it down into the courtyard and carved through its skull."
"One," Sonvar whispered.
"Then another. And another. Five in all."
"Five…" the boy breathed, glancing out at the endless sea as if expecting wings over water.
"Each kill cost him," Jemriah said. "By the last, he stood barely upright. But the sky was empty."
The wind off Aravan island surged, tugging at their burgundy cloaks.
"And the Khorin?" Sonvar asked.
"They believed us isolated. They believed numbers and fear would suffice." Jemriah's eyes hardened. "Your uncles and I broke their charge beneath the eastern wall. Mud to the knee. Blood in the mouth. I remember thinking how absurd it was... that history should hinge upon footing."
"You weren't afraid?"
"As i said.. I was terrified," Jemriah shivered, his voice even. "Remember that. Courage is decision, not purity."
"And King Amren?" Sonvar pressed.
Jemriah turned the painting so the duel caught the light.
"When his dragons fell and his tribe fractured, Amren sought your grandfather Kaisran. They fought amidst ruin and flame. Sorcery warped the air. I could not approach without feeling my lungs freeze."
"Who struck first?"
"Amren," Jemriah said. "He wounded your grandfather deeply."
Sonvar's breath hitched.
"But Kaisran endured. Not because he was stronger. Because he understood something Amren did not."
"What?"
"That kingship is not seized for glory. It is seized so others need not fight the same battle twice."
Jemriah's hand hovered over the painted moment of steel meeting flesh. "He took Amren's head."
The waves crashed below the island cliffs.
"And then he climbed the highest tower?" Sonvar asked.
"Yes. While the watching kingdoms peered from safe distances. He raised Amren's severed head and declared himself sovereign of all five continents. Aegis Reach would stand as their capital."
"Was it pride?"
"No," Jemriah said quietly. "It was warning."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by restless waters of shina.
"At times," Sonvar said carefully, "it sounds glorious."
Jemriah looked out across the darkening horizon. Far from Aegis Reach. Far from banners and oaths. Here there were only cliffs, sea, and memory.
"Glory," he said at last, "is what survivors name their grief."
A distant gull cried.
"And the dragons?" Sonvar asked one final time.
Jemriah did not look at the sky.
"On an island this far from home," he said softly, "one learns to listen to the wind. Sometimes… it carries more than salt."
He placed a steady hand upon his son's shoulder. "If they yet fly, then one day they will cast their shadows here as well."
The lighthouse flame guttered, then steadied. And father and son stood together on cliffs, watching the horizon as if expecting it to burn.
Sonavr valemount (Aldran valemount)
Hours passed upon Aravan island, and the tide turned twice beneath the cliffs.
The lighthouse flame guttered low, then was fed anew. Stars claimed the sky in patient increments. Father and son remained upon the stone terrace, the painting long since rolled shut and set aside like a wound politely covered.
They spoke of the world first.
Of the five continents and how distance alters truth. Of kingdoms that bend the knee readily and those that wait, smiling, with daggers behind silk. Jemriah spoke not as a sovereign's son but as a soldier...of roads that swallow armies, of ports where loyalty can be bought cheaper than grain, of how empires do not fall in fire but in quiet compromise.
Dawn crept pale and deliberate over Aravan island's cliffs as Jemriah spoke of the world beyond sight.
He was not like his brother Jorath, who chased horizons and carved his name into distant snows. Jemriah's knowledge was narrower, forged by war and necessity rather than wandering. He had walked only two continents with certainty beneath his boots, yet he knew the names of all five, as any man raised in the shadow of Aegis Reach must.
At the world's center lay Wrath of Aegis, the middle continent. It was neither the largest nor the richest, yet it bore the weight of crowns. Empires rose there because roads converged there, because ambition found fertile soil in its river valleys and iron-veined hills. Aegis Reach crowned its spine, a capital declared for all five continents, its banners visible in memory even from distant shores.
To the east stretched Eldros, a continent of long coastlines and pale-stoned cities that caught the sunrise like burnished shields. Merchant fleets ruled its waters, and knowledge flowed through its ports as readily as spice and silver. Its inland territories were said to be green and layered with ancient settlements, older than many of the kingdoms that now claimed them.
Westward lay Weltharas, broad and wind-scoured. Vast grasslands rolled beneath enormous skies, broken by fortress-cities along the coasts where rival powers maintained a brittle peace. It was a land where distance itself was a weapon, where armies could vanish into horizon-wide plains and reemerges months later hardened by travel.
To the south brooded Samastak.
Even its name carried warning. It was whispered to be the most dangerous of the five... dense jungles swallowing stone, mountain ranges serrated and unforgiving, civilizations rumored but seldom confirmed. Few expeditions returned unchanged. Fewer still returned whole. Stories from Samastak spoke of forgotten gods and creatures that predated recorded war.
And to the north stood Noventa, a continent of cold dominion. There the winds cut like honed steel, and winter did not retreat so much as loosen its grip. The Red Frost Kingdom ruled its harsh expanses...a realm of crimson banners, A dragon on top of its battlements against endless white. It was there that Jorath had made his name, carving legend from ice and dragon alike.
Five continents.
Five different temperaments of earth and sky.
Jemriah also told Sonvar that kings ruled with banners... but continents answered to gods.
Wrath of Aegis belonged to Aegis, an old god of war and unbroken oaths.
Eldros was ruled by Eldros the god...new among divinities, born of ambition and rising cities. God of tricks and malice.
Weltharas bowed to his son Rumkasan, an ancient god of wind and agility. An old god pleased easily by flowers.
Noventa lay beneath Kresper, god of red frost and relentless winter.
Samastak answered to Rhayson, old and untamed, lord of jungle and mountain.
All were old gods...except Eldros alone.
Above every continent stretched the sky, ruled by Molharin.
And beneath every shore moved the seas, held in the grasp of Areyan.
They talked, hours upon hours passed, sonavr wanted to ask everything, and father answered everything.
They talked about legendary swords, several tribes, several races born out of new and old god's wombs. They even talked about wars and kings. Sonvar thought he could ask everything and his father would nod and reply. Everything but... tomb, father ignored talking about tombs. Ignored when sonavr asked about that sword, it's chain still dangling from his forearm.
"We should get back to sover, Irene and others must be getting worried about us. Come, any other questions will be answered on morrow, it's not like i am dying anytime soon."
World of sumaka through eyes of amberia—
Can a human stop a catastrophic event?
This world is dominant of gods and demigods. What role does humans play in ploy of gods? What is humanity in the end?
Gods use humans... Kings use them for their own as well... Tribes hate humans, they torture them for fun... Demigods keep humans as their slaves... Giants crush them under their feet... Many races disregard humans as weak and frail creatures...
So... why should humans exist, from birth till the day they die, they suffer endlessly. They are not strong but they are never given the chance to be strong.
Gods are cruel, humanity is not. Gods make these humans and let them suffer, why? Why do they do that? Is it possible that gods are so filled with boredem that they let humans suffer for they feel powerful for it...
Why then when people says that god is kind, why then do they not interject and help a lady who is getting raped or a child who is getting butchered by someone who wants to pilfer his father's wealth. Why then, do they do nothing to maintain peace in these lands? Why so much bloodshed? Why so much rape? So much injustice that is often overlooked in name of knighthood and war Glory...
Amberia wants answers not reasoning.