June 2, 1823
The Island of Bavaria
My name is Ben. Well, Benjamin, but know one calls me that. I have lived here 16 years- my whole life, in fact. Nothing has changed. In the entire time I’ve lived here, nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed.
I live in a giant trench, a trench made from the great bombardment about two hundred years ago. Back then, my ancestors lived in the sky, looking down on the horrors taking place below them.
King Salizar “The Great” craved power; at least, that’s what we’re told. So he set out on a conquest. A conquest to dominate the world. Eventually, we knew that there was no way to defeat the Great Salizar. So, quite literally, we flew away. We flew from the land in massive airships. Of course, some were left behind. There has been many a tale about the events that took place that night that they left the ground, and I’m sure that I’ve heard the worst of them. There is one poem that will stay with me forever. It is called “The Cry of the Innocent”, a poem I wish never to hear again. It is said that, on that night, great cries and shrieks lifted up to the heavens. No one slept for days.
