The Blessed

"A war-torn world is all I see through my scarred face, cast aside from a paradise as my body slowly begins to fail me. My child, my love, it is all that I have. However, with the rysoudre, I fear it will be a stillborn as the world around slowly eats at our bodies."

"Dear, we will find a way, if not for us but for our only child," said a woman as she patted her belly under the rags wrapped around her. Her long black hair slightly obscured her reddened and crumbling face; she too was slowly losing her body. "Each time we are forced farther away from home, it gets worse than pushed again. These lands are near barren, hardly inhabitable, for even the most blessed of people."

Blessed – a word granted to a small group of people. A growing number of people that still look normal. Even rarer, a person with special power or talent would crop up from them. The source of this blessing was called rysoudre. Rysoudre was the name of an energy force that had swallowed the land about a hundred years ago. It was claimed by the teachings of Kami that those who believed in him would become blessed and those gifted with true sight would be given power. The man wrapped in rags spit on the ground in disgust; he believed but that energy source was now draining him and his family of life.

The warm harsh wind gusted into them as his wife tried to keep her hair out of her face. Her sunburned hands went to her hair, using a tie to put her long hair in a ponytail. "Do you think our child will pull through?" she asked, concerned as her hands went to her swelling stomach.

"If the child can withstand the rysoudre," answered the man. He looked out at the barren land; not even sand stayed long. The earth seemed to cry as parts opened up, trying to grasp the air. His bagged eyes squinted in the wind over a very unkempt brown beard, and he quickly buttoned up a ragged brown trench coat around himself as the sky started to cloud.

"This all, for one law?" the man tightened his coat around his body, shrouding his face as he thought of how to survive. A flake of skin rubbed off with the robe, warm blood hardly kept in check.

"He will, he will survive." She smiled a knowing smile as she rubbed circles around her belly.

"What about us?" asked the man, giving a sad smirk as he looked down.

"I don't know if we will, but promise me you will take care of him." She looked over at his shrouded face. He remained silent, watching her; her body had taken a hard toll from the journey, with graying hair and wrinkles that belonged on a much older woman. He dared not look any longer as he turned to watch the sun glow red, casting a glow over the cracked rock.

"I promise," whispered the man. The woman turned away and felt the left-hand side of her face. There was nothing but bone lined with dried blood and a thin sheet of skin.

The world was changed. What once was a living continent became a hell no man could ever imagine. What was once a survivable land was soon cursed by Kami as life was stripped from this part of the world. The people doomed to a life of pain as those cursed with a deformation were cast away from paradise known as Eden. The farther away from Eden you got, the closer to you got to hell, and the normality of people vanished. With the mystical mojo, blessed came from rare times. The man shook his head as he returned to a large wagon; the ox had recently died and without the ability to move anymore, the man started to take the wagon apart and put together a small one-story house. Despite her pregnancy, the two had little choice but to work under the hot sun and cold barren nights, and soon a rather worn-looking house stood. They stood on a small mountain looking not too far away from their home.

"When I die, bury me here so I can always look to the sun." She smiled to her husband as she rubbed her swollen belly.

"You'll be fine. You're in the best health a person can be in." The man frowned as he turned to his wife.

She gave him a small smile. "That's not saying much, my love." She chuckled at her own joke. When she lost her balance, her hand went instinctively to her belly.

"Is it time?" the father asked, quickly offering a hand for support. She nodded as she started to breathe. The father started the two down the decent as he looked up at the sky; it started to rumble. Both parents looked up in confusion; the dead lands were not known for storms of any kind. The two soon-to-be parents made it half way down when the woman collapsed.

"I can't wait any longer, John. . . I," she started as her breathing picked up.

"Save it, you can tell me after the child is born," John interrupted as the blood from his fingers was being choked off.

"Let me speak my peace first, just listen. I don't blame you. You were just trying to help a friend. It was never your fault," she said smiling. "Ah," she cried, "please, whatever happens, don't let that hate eat you up. Your child will live on, I know it. Please take care of him," she pleaded. "Promise me."

"You'll be here to help, so stop talking like this is the end," he urged as he held her hand up to his face. She smiled as child birth breathing gave into soft screams. John put the crying infant in the mother's hand.

"He's a boy," he said smiling, "and in one piece." The father gave a weak smile.

"My little boy, my blessed little Daean," she cooed as her heart started to slow. Thunder clapped in the distance as the mother's breathing slowed then stopped.

"Honey?" he whispered as her hand went limp in his grasp and the baby started to cry. He bowed his head as he took the baby and swaddled him in his wife's old shirt. He looked up at the dark sky as rain started to fall down. Lightning split the sky, and thunder soon followed. John looked down at his son. The child had stopped crying as he watched the sky flash. John, with child in one hand, soon ran for home and shelter. It was the day the god of thunder and lightning was born.