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Our Ancestors came from the East
Aboard vessels of great size
They spread wings like birds
Used the wind to carry them across the depths where dangers lurk
Where the waves are born

The Ancients breathed the sea
Like air
Though they may journey far from its sight
Their thoughts always returned to it
Before sleeping

The Ancients reached Skara on the darkest night of the cycle
When all the Gods were hiding behind clouds
They heard the land before they saw it
With a great shudder and crash
Their ships ran aground

When Celem rose again from his resting place
The Ancients saw their new home
A mighty river flowing out of a wooded land
Covered in mist

From the wreckage they swam to the land
And wept
For great was their loss
All except one of their vessels lay destroyed by the waves
That had carried them so far

After a period of mourning
Our Ancestors commended themselves to their fate
They found the trees that bear fruit
They saw the fat Waachi that swam
In the shallows
And they began to learn a new kind of happiness

Our Ancestors learned many lessons
How to build dwellings on poles
To stay off the wet ground
And to avoid the solitary creatures
That wandered hungry in the night

How to walk through the mist
Without getting lost
How to hunt on land, build fires and wield sharp stones
There still belonged to Our Ancestors one vessel
Floating
So they cast lots as to who could use it
To travel further
To where Celem slept and perhaps
So far that they might return
To where the waves are born

When Celem had burned the mist away for a time
The winners of the lot
Boarded their vessel and headed south
For it could not head against the waves

A great distance those on board journeyed
Past the misty forests
Past a barren coast of cliffs and sand
Till the distance was pierced
By land of great height
They met the clouds and disappeared

As the vessel neared this strange land they noticed a Tower
It was straight and tall
Came up as if out of the water
From the center of the land itself
Atop the tower drifted a great cloud of smoke
And hid it from view

Through the period of Celem’s sleeping
Our Ancestors waited—their ship drifted towards the tower
As if by force
And they heard strange noises
Like singing
And through the smoke they saw a light bright as Celem himself burning

Fear gripped many of our Ancestors’ hearts
But one let curiosity enkindle courage
He offered to climb up and see what was atop the Tower
When Celem awoke

Celem broke over the horizon and the youth
Began to scale the tower

Up and up he climbed
Till those below could see him no longer

Celem passed that place three times
Our Ancestors heard nothing from the youth
But above the light, the drums, and the singing continued
Finally he returned
But he was no longer the same youth
His skin was pale
His eyes looked far off
And words no longer passed by his lips

In his spell the young man remained dumb
No amount of medicine could cure
No amount of questioning could revive
Our Ancestors sensed a curse
So they let the youth be
To sit at the bow and look into the distance

With a new fear for what lay ahead
Our Ancestors decided to return
Any way they could
To their brethren in the misty forest

They turned the ship around
Altered the sails
Adjusted the wings
But to no avail
The vessel would not point in the direction where the waves are born

With heavy souls
Our ancestors prepared to leave
The last vestage of their old life
They set the wings to point to where Celem sleeps
Set it on fire
As a sacrifice
And got out
to walk back the way they had come

But the youth would not leave the vessel
No amount of fighting could displace him
Finally with a drug they took him from that place
Carried him to land
Put a fold over his eyes and a rope around his hands
To lead him whither they desired

It was many more of Celem’s journeys
Before finally our Ancestors returned to their kin
On that particular occasion
They held a feast
Thanked Celem for allowing them to be once again together
And Alive

The youth never recovered
For the rest of his life he remained
Deaf and dumb
Staring into the horizon

He died of old age
On the rock looking
To where the waves are born
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Continue reading more Stories of the Ancients: The Ravaging of Kon Lin