"Buried, but not forgotten."
The long night did not begin when hell was unraveled, rather, it began a long time ago, when the sun still shone and the seas were still blue, it began not between the rivers, not upon mountains, but above the seas, in a time and place when there was yet to be a greater power on the continent, far before it, far from it, it began in a sleeping paradise hidden by its timeless peace.
Once, I heard, that in their peak, they once carried the people of all places to everywhere. They sailed on windeaters, living galleons of its time, and drank on the juice of their bright sweet-sour lime. Their food was brown and fried with fat, their homes were roofed and filled with carefully made rattan mats. They carried stringed instruments to tell the time, they sang in the evening to please the sun. They carved ivory, made them whistle, and they bent metals and made them chime.
Some others say that they made trades with even the little people of the far-far east. Some say, they even circled infinity, in their adventurousness, found the place where the sun set, long before Dhul Qarnayn even was. They said, that only these seaborne people knew what it was like, to witness the beginning of the day, to witness the beginning of night. "The seas bless them!" or so they were said to be, "A life of easiness," or so some believe.
"Whoever knows, knows with me, that there is no life in living, nor is there death in its dusk. What remains will solely remain. We