Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen - Chapter 1

And now Dear Reader I will take you on a seemingly endless journey.
A trip that will take you to places I might have visited many moons ago.
It´s a tale that came back to me when I meditated on one of my past lives. A life I told you about in my unbelievable true story.

As promised in that story I will now share this story with you.

Prologue

Because even an endless journey has a beginning

The valley looked lovely these days, the paddy fields cascading down until they reached the bottom. The reeds along the river, which ran through the canyon, swayed in the wind, while the sun nourished the earth.

In the distance stood the Kranusha, the great volcano, which erupted hundreds of years ago and formed the basis of the nutrient-rich soil in this region. The valley must have had a devastating appearance at that time. A blackened mass, with here and there the charred remains of what had once been trees.

If this area had been populated at the time, this last eruption meant the end of that civilization. Their ashes now serve as the foundation of our civilization.

A civilization that stems from a group of fishermen who, generations ago, moved into the mountains to escape the onslaught of the violent sea people. They bombarded the coast, where our former habitat was located, with bloody attacks.

They were called "Krotan Dua", the sea devils. They came in the early morning and chased through the village with spears and torches. They burned down the huts, looking for the women of the village. Those who couldn't get away were later found mutilated beyond recognition.

These devils always came when all the healthy men were at sea and only the elderly and sick were present to defend the village. A few encounters with the Krotan Dua soon marked the end of an era, an era in which my tribe lived off what the sea had to offer.

Chapter One

"The lore tells of a long and grueling journey through vast grassy plains, stinking swamps, and sharp rocks, which shelter large predators. Bears, snakes, and immense birds of prey destroyed young lives during those traveling months if not years when my distant ancestors roamed this land in search of a new home.

It is unclear how long my tribe wandered before encamping at the foot of a mountain range with only one long narrow pass leading up. Of the two scouts sent out, only one returned. Nevertheless, on his advice, the tribe moved into the mountains.

Along the narrow path, they began the ascent, which would take several days. The mountain had a cruel, grim air, a grimness that grew every hour of the climb.

On the left side of the path, a steep rock wall rose. To the right a chasm, which grew deeper and more vicious as they ascended. A chasm filled with sharp protrusions ready to devour those who take one wrong step. The teeth of the chasm knew what to do with the fallen.

After a journey of several days through this hellish pass, there was the final part of this seemingly endless journey. The narrow pass opened and it was as if Aka, the god of the earth, had swept away all obstacles with a single movement of his hand.

A barren stone plain, a vast plateau with a few rocks. This first view of the top did not bode well. The inhumane climb had only led to this dead wasteland. That must have been the first thoughts of those who had reached the top.

The remaining scout walked to the edge of the stone abyss. There he stopped, turned to the trunk, and stepped back. He didn't crash, he just stood there floating in what seemed mid-air.

When the tribesmen reached the edge of the plateau, they saw a green haze, an oasis of trees and plants in the midst of this dead land. A blooming heart, surrounded by a lifeless shell.

During their previous trip, the scouts had found some signs that this area had once been inhabited. The most obvious were the remains of steps carved into the mountainside. Particularly in the upper area, several were still largely untouched. The first step was directly behind the edge of the abyss, where the scout now stood.

Further on this tableland, there was a stone formation, which must have been made by human hands with adjoining certainty. Probably as a tribute to the gods, who apparently became displeased with the behavior of their worshipers and eventually drove them out of this unruly paradise.

The oasis below was watered by a stream that sprang from the mountains to the east and descended through this valley. The widening stream snaked between the mountains toward the great volcano.

Since their arrival on this plateau, my tribe has called this plain home. Because of the strong strategic location, she chose not to settle in the valley, but here high above the oasis. The region was still unknown and the fear of foreign enemies was still great.

Yet this area suited the tribe very well. The valley was the mother, she who provides for the bodily needs. The mountains are the father, the strength, and the protector. Together they formed the perfect balance, in both our physical and spiritual world.

The earliest generations had not sought contact with whom may have lived in the surrounding areas for fear of new escalations. But curiosity all too often trumps fear.

Young adventurers went on long journeys in an increasingly wider area. For a long time, these journeys brought nothing but death, and fewer men were inclined to participate. These dangerous expeditions seemed to be nothing more than a waste of lives. Lives that could have helped to build our settlement.

As if "Krotan" played with it, an expedition returned shortly after these talks of ending the expeditions started to catch on. They returned with great news. It was a group that had been on the road for weeks. They came back very emaciated and tired and told the tribe that a settlement had been found some thirty days downstream."

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