mwezí
Selene slumbered, unaware of the forces attracted to her, the Red Sea leaping, every wave reaching higher, trying to reach she who the sea craved for. The Mediterranean Sea also vying for the attention of Mona leapt higher and higher. She slept on, watching over a darkened world. If she had been awake, she would have been horrified at the travesty being inflicted upon the rock she stood guard over.
A flower bloomed in the edge of her dominion, a pesky menace that would grow to inflict famine upon the field, and following it, the nearby field. It would bring a disease that man, with all his technology and science and brains could not cure. Years of famine would follow, millions would fall.
On the other side of her dominion, in a corner in a city long overlooked, and vastly forgotten, a man with deep insight, or severe paranoia placed a lock over a building he had been working on for many years, ever since he fled The Fire in his land. He had harkened his message of terror to all, no one had paid any heed. He had begun work on a project that would protect and secure all of mankind’s history thus far, safeguard its greatest achievements, works of art, science, literature, he had spent his life, consumed by this mission, he believed he was meant for a higher purpose. He called it the Library of Alexandria, named after the original, if one looked inside the building, one would find the walls painted with pictures of her namesake. Covered in the names of all deities from all known religions of the world. Yet this too would fall, and even then, as the Library of Alexandria burned two thousand six hundred and sixty six years from the burning of the first, Selene would be watching, this time awake, horror open on her cratered, ancient face.
On the seas, storms would be screaming, sizzling, the air electrifying. Fish of all shapes and sizes would be floating on their sides, their tiny hearts having given way.
Tectonic plates all over would be playing the dance they had played for millennia, shaping the world as we know it, but playing this dance at a tempo a hundred thousand times faster than they had before, the landscape changing every day, people falling in to the depths of the earth.
On the another side of her dominion, in a corner in a city long abandoned, and vastly forgotten, a man with deep insight, or severe paranoia kept up his search even as his world burned. He had been led down this path since the first case he had met, something of it had struck him of the paranormal, and call it delusion, call it madness, he had kept chipping away at the structures of the world that we construct to keep ourselves sane, and here he was, having expect this kind of outcome, looking for the one thing that would help, his magnifying glass, glued to his eye as he walked past stone column after stone column. A few feet away and a few feet under, lay The Key that he was looking for. Under the Turret of Archers, that had long since crumbled to a shadow of its former glory, and others had risen up like monoliths, a circle of them.
Luna woke up and screamed to Helios. She shouted at Ra. To no avail. It was too late.
mwezí noun (plural miyezí)
moon