Ravannah's Descent Begins
204 Words
He stood at the threshold between realms, looking down upon his world. The cities bustled. The Watchers guided. The people thrived. And still—no one looked up to search for him.
So he descended.
First to Bull Run, where miners and builders wrestled with stone and flame. He walked among them cloaked in plain garb, his power dimmed to blend among mortals. But they did not recognize him. They scoffed at his stories, laughed at his reverent tone.
“Another prophet playing god,” they muttered.
He was driven out—mocked, bruised, humiliated.
Then to Goatora Valley, where thinkers held debate and knowledge bloomed beneath mountain libraries. He revealed truths, offered divine insights into the world’s structure.
“You speak well,” they told him, “but your tales are not our history.”
They did not see him.
He arrived at Maiden Cove last—where Virgo held sway. She was the quiet watcher, grounded yet graceful, beloved by poets and healers. Ravannah lingered in her city not to command, but to observe. And it was there, beneath a jasmine-scented breeze, that a voice found him.
“Excuse me... my lord.”
A simple phrase. But it pierced centuries of silence.
- Writer
