Small droplets of sweat formed on King Bevérian’s forehead…
“I miss the music,” he thought. “The women used to sing such wonderful songs. Full of power and beauty.” Only now was Taro beginning to regret his long journey, as the nightly winds chilled his weary bones.
This is the stuff of dreams. The drink of gods, the enabler of magic, and the driving force of our civilization, all distilled in small but sturdy glass vials on a moon forty-seven light-years from our home
Storytelling was very important to the Yehr people. Each night they would come around the campfire and share legends and myths, with each one trying to explain the many mysterious and strange events of their world. However, the way of life for these people forever changed once they witnessed their first solar eclipse.
Deep darkness had covered all the land on that moonless night, and all of the other clanspeople had long retired to their tents. Only a grandfather and his granddaughter remained, entertaining the campfire with tales of heroes of ages long past.