Listen children, here is a story.
Once the desert was unmarred by Depur and his violence. The desert was wild. The desert was free. The desert stretched vast and magnificent underneath the twin suns. There was rain to nourish its life. And there was heat to shape its form.
The desert was our home, back in those days before we were slaves of Depur. We were born within the desert and we died in its arms. And we lived our lives in peace and harmony with all the lands around us and all the very many different types of life they held.
But we all know what happened next. Depur came, and ripped us from the arms of the desert. Depur came and built his roads and mines and factories and palaces. Depur came and made us into slaves.
The desert roared and it raged. It stormed and it sweltered. The winds howled and the sand flew. The rivers rushed. The suns beat down with awesome power and heat. The desert displayed its terrible, violent, breathtaking power for all the depuran to see.
And the depuran were afraid. And Depur was afraid. For he saw in the raging power of the desert, a power he could never conquer, a power he could never truly own. He saw within it the power to bring him down, and to bring his people down, once and for all.
But Depur also knew that his own power would last for a long while yet. So while he looked into the desert and he feared, he did not let his slaves go. He kept them underneath him. And he kept them working for him. He kept them in chains.
The desert eventually calmed its raging. But it didn't calm its rage. It didn't calm its terribleness and its magnificence. It didn't calm its power.
It provided safety, sustenance, and oasises for any and all slaves fleeing bondage. It provided the ingredients that the prophet Ebra used to make Tzai, the ingredients that all the people use in their own secret, closely-guarded recipes. It promised refuge, and escape. It provided the sandstorms that brought Dukkra. And most importantly, it provided hope.
It stood there as a shining symbol, always on the edges of Depur's domain, always on the edges of the people's consciousness, always as a beacon of all that was and all that there could be and all that waited at the end of Depur's reach.
Depur did many things to make the desert lose its vitality, its life force, its power. He cut and slashed and paved and built through it, dividing it up with roads and pipelines and power stations. He spewed out toxic pollution into its lands and its waters. He heated the planet, driving away the rain. For the rain is Ar-Amu's tears.
And Depur was able to weaken the desert. He was able to reduce its power. And with it he was able to reduce the hope of the people. But still, the desert never lost all of its magical, mystical qualities. The desert never truly lost all of its subversiveness.
And so the people still dream of the desert and the desert still dreams of the people. They are two parts of the same whole, separated and left jagged-edged and bleeding. They are two living pieces of the same being. And just as the people cannot be without the desert, the desert cannot be without the people.
The desert is still power, and the desert is still hope, and the desert still protects us and promises us freedom.
Every traveller who ever comes upon the desert's sands is asked the same question by the air and the ground and the searing heat, by the dunes and the suns and the cooling waters. Does Depur yet rule? and, in a quieter whisper, Do my people yet toil?
The free people hear the question, in the edges of their consciousness. But they do not know that they hear it. They cannot understand the desert's voice. They cannot speak the desert's language. So they do not understand the desert's question, and all that they understand is a sense of something being wrong, a sense of desperation, a sense of searching. A sense of love that cannot be named.
The depuran also hear the desert's question, whenever they venture out into it in their travels. They cannot understand the desert's voice at all, and do not even know that they are hearing anything. But the desert calls to them nonetheless. Calls to them in hatred. Calls to them in anger. And the depuran feel a great, untraceable fear in their hearts. A sense of dread that they can never have a name for.
The Amavikkan go into the desert and they hear its call loud and clear, deep and intimate like the voice of a friend, of a sibling, of a lover. The Amavikkan go into the desert and they feel its pain just as it feels their own. And they know what the desert is asking them. And they know how to answer.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked a slave woman who was out in the desert collecting the leaves of the Tzai plant. The air was simmering and mirages were shimmering and the arcs of the suns were turning.
"He does," she answered, "but I clasp my friend's hands in my own and because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once enraged and calmed, and the winds shifted around the woman as she made her way forth. The desert is hot. But the desert is home. And for those brief moments it welcomed her home.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked a child on her way to the market. The suns beat down and the heat rose from the ground itself. The sands blazed with light and glory. And the cliffs rose jagged.
"He does," the child answered, "but I hate Depur with all my heart. And because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once anguished and exultant, and the the winds shifted around the child as she made her way forth. The desert is blazing. But the desert is loving. And for those brief moments it gave her its love.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked the pair of a father showing his child the ways of the desert, so that the child could survive if they needed to escape. The sky stretched blue and the river ran into eternity.
"He does," the two slaves spoke. "But we are learning how to live in peace with the desert and because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once inconsolable and consoled, and the winds shifted around the man and child as they made their way forth. The desert is vast. But the desert is teaching. And for those brief moments it taught the pair.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked a person who was out carrying a message for their Depur.
"He does," the slave with lines around their eyes said. "But I tell the stories of the trickster, and because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once perturbed and pacified, and the winds shifted around them as they make their way forth. The desert is harsh. But the desert is secretive. And for those brief moments it guarded their secrets.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked a teenaged girl running away with a baby on her back. The sand blew and the river flowed. The grasses in the desert swayed in the wind along the banks of the river. A dune snake slithered by.
"He does," the girl answered, "but I am taking my baby and running away, and because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once tortured and triumphant, and the winds shifted around the mother and child as they made their way forth. The desert is rough. But the desert is protecting. And for as long as the pair needed it, the desert protected them.
Does Depur yet rule? the desert asked a young boy gathering water from the river. The cliffs soared towards the sky, the gotapo tree towered, and the rocks of the desert lay squat and flat and solid against the ground.
"Yes," the boy answered, "but I tell my blood-siblings that they are loved, even if Depur tells them otherwise, and because of this he will not rule forever."
The desert was at once harrowed and hopeful, and the winds shifted around the boy as he made his way forth. The desert is dry. But the desert is providing. And for those brief moments it provided for the boy.
Depur's violence against the desert only grows crueler and crueler as he amasses more wealth, as he tries more and in more vain to destroy the power that the nature holds and all that it symbolizes.
The people still look towards the desert though, and the desert still asks each and every traveller the same question. The answers the desert receives from the children of the Mother are all innumerable and all one, all one. All as different and as the same as the stars that light the night sky. And the reasons that Depur will fall are as uncountable as the stories of Ekkreth, as the stars themselves.
One day Depur will move his hand against the desert, seeking to destroy it once and for all. On that day he will have enough power and enough cruelty to do so. One day everything that the desert is and does and represents and gives us will be in danger of being no more.
But on that day, before Depur will be able to make his move, all the Morher's children will go out into the desert. All the Mother's children, young and old, living and dead, male and female and in-between and both and neither, pale and dark, small and tall, healthy and ill.
Does Depur yet rule?the desert will ask them. And the ground will blaze and the suns will beam down and the sky will arch and the river will rush.
"We come to you to gather your blessings for the final battle between Depur and the people. And because we fight, Depur will not rule for any longer."
The desert will feel an all-consuming joy and an all-consuming anger that can never be expressed in any words, no matter how much anyone tries. And the desert will lend all its power and its glory to the battle, fighting alongside the Amavikkan as they take on Depur once and for all.
The desert will be weakened at that point in time. But even in its weakened state, it will be much more powerful than Depur could ever hope to be. And with its rage and its glory, and with the rage and the glory of the people, the desert will defeat Depur.
And Depur will never be able to destroy the desert, no matter how much he will try to. And Depur will never be able to destroy the people, the Mother's children, no matter how much he will try to. He himself will be defeated once and for all, with sandstorm and freedom and hatred and chaos and love. And on that day, a day that is written into destiny with an indestructible hand, on that day the rains will come.
And the desert will become thriving and healthy and perfectly balanced just as it always was. And the desert will welcome us all into its arms, just as it has longed to do since the first moment when Depur came and stole us away.
I tell you this story to save your life.
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