794.II, 30 Meoii: Berneem dead

The ruins of our empire

It is a cold day, windy and lost in dense fogs, like yesterday, like the day before yesterday. Like almost every day in the middle of the Blue Sea, in the middle of nowhere. I am rides away from any other landmark, and in front of me lies the ghostly silhouette of ✝ Berneem, the late capital of the world. Like a skelettal mountain, it appears in the whims of fog, tall, wide, but so grim. Berneem once was a jewel of architecture, history, wealth, trade. Barely more than a decade ago. It was encircled by hundreds of thousands of houses, made of wood and lime. This all disappeared in the flames of Sharing the story of the Great Magissal war to my grandchild., and in the magissens' wrath. Now only stand the stone columns and foundations of the citadel. The palace built by Kalendos himself, some two thousand years ago, is now a pile of rubble in which only live critters and weeds.

The scene lays before me, comatose and quiet, if not for the wind howling around the pillars as if it was still lamenting over the death of a city. The death of a symbol and the death of an era. Noone ever came back after the war ended. Trauma, fear, suffering led the survivors to stay far from this place. Now they say it is haunted by the ghosts of victims, and by evil spirits born from the chaos that took place that night. I may not be discouraged from crossing, but in truth I don't feel that comfortable and I won't hang around for long, I pick up the pace.

Strolling in the remnants of once beautiful and busy streets, I stop at what once was a school, a market, a chapel, or a villa. A dozen wild heeruses graze leisurely in the distance, and gobeaks will sometimes disappear before my progression. They thrive in the maze of rocks which shelters them from predators now that the herbs and shrubs have reclaimed the land. The ruins have the advantage to offer some welcome shelter against the everstrong wind, and for once I might be able to enjoy a somewhat comfortable night of sleep on flat, dry ground.

This has become a sanctuary, a testament to the horrors of war and the tragic ephemerality of things. Crossing through, I take care not to disturb the bittersweet peace that has settled on the city. I've had to restrain Bob from eating any stone...

Leen