Eda wiped the sweat from her brow as the heat of the red sun beat down on her. Her horse, Goldie, reered in discomfort as the heat of the sandstone seared her worn hooves.

“Woah there, girl,” Eda said softly as she patted the horse gently. “Just a few miles left.”

She held her bandana over her mouth as wind and dust pushed against her like sandpaper. She had been sheltered from the wind by the mountainous corpse that lay in the desert, but the wind had since shifted to blow directly against her. She had been out looking for survivors longer than she should’ve, and now she didn’t know if she could make it to shelter before the sand storm set in.

Eda watched the eerily still corpse of the god Solnera as she rode beside it. Some have sworn to see some movement from the old god, but he’s long dead. She was just past the fingers, just a few miles away from her settlement in the dead god’s gaping mouth.

Eda was just a little girl when Solnera first began to show signs of tiring. Holding up the sun couldn’t have been easy, but Solnera did it without complaint. One day, he fell to his knees, causing earthquakes felt throughout the entire planet. Churchest sent messengers to find out what was wrong, but Solnera either couldn’t hear them or couldn’t respond.

More than a year later, Solnera dropped dead. The earthquakes from the god’s head colliding with the Earth was the least of their problems, as the sun began to fall closer and closer. It didn’t take long for the oceans to dry and the dust to kick up. After a few years, the north pole became the only place cool enough to sustain life, but even that was a baren desert.

Eda was one of maybe thirty known survivors left on the planet. They had survived by making a home out of the corpse of the god that had once protected them. His thick skin was the only material that wouldn’t get withered away by the frequent sand storms, which made his corpse the only viable option for shelter.

All of the survivors knew that their time was limited. The sun grew closer and hotter by the day. Pushing forward and living regardless was a sign of reckless stupidity more than anything else. As was, Eda knew, being caught outside during a sand storm.

The wind was picking up, and soon the sand flying by began to rip tears in Eda’s clothing. Goldie whined and reered in protest at the abrasive pain, and Eda was carelessly thrown to the ground.

Sharp, searing pain wracked her entire body as it impacted the burning hot stone. She gasped and screamed as sand continued to burrow through her clothes. Goldie wimpered and ran off, leaving Eda to burn alone on the ground.

Eda looked towards Solnera as she writhed in pain. The old god who spent eons holding up the sun, lying dead beside a woman who spent years trying to survive in a dead world without him, and would soon die herself.

She laughed to herself. Thats all she really could do. Humanity wasn’t doomed to fall; it already fell. She was just one of the fools who wouldn’t let go. But that all caught up with her now, and there was no escaping it.

Eda died alone and in pain. Just like Solnera. Just like humanity.

A large silhouette skulked through the back alleys of an unassuming New York City. The light of the full moon pressed down on the form of a huge beast covered in brown fur. The creature’s lips were quirked up to bare it’s teeth; a vile black ooze dripping from between it’s pointed fangs.

The beast labored through the trash laden streets, taking slow and heavy steps. It cared little for whatever mortals may be awake to bear witness to it’s horrific form, for it was on a mission. The Demon King issued a direct order; an order that this lowly creature took honor in completing.

At last, the demon finally beheld its wretched pray, residing in one of the few remaining lit buildings on the street. The demon smiled to itself; pleased that it’s King’s order would soon be fulfilled. It effortlessly passed through the door, despite it being nearly half of its size, and faced the single human within.

The human gaped in abject terror. His face was white as a the moon and his mouth hung open. The demon took slow, deliberate steps towards the human, and with each step it took the air turned colder. Once it was well past reaching distance from the human, it stopped and deliberated. The human only stared.

Slowly, the demon raised its arm and stretched out a single claw, almost a foot long and razor sharp, pointing past the human’s head. The two beings stood there like this for a moment, until the human recovered from his paralysis and turned to see what the demon was pointing to.

The human pondered, then spoke in a shaky voice. “Is that-“ he gulped, “-Is that all?”

The demon nodded. The human, hesitant to turn its back to the beast, slowly walked backwards to another room, only turned around once he knew he was out of sight. Once he was decently far from it, the human’s walk turned into a sprint.

A few moments later, the human returned with a brown paper bag and presented it to the demon. It stepped forward and took a long and intentionally uncomfortable sniff. Satisfied, the creature opened its wretched maw, reached inside with one of its furry hands, and pulled out a single gold bar coated in a foul-smelling black ooze. The demon took the paper bag in its mouth and replaced it with the gold bar. It nodded to the human, and turned to leave.

Once outside, the demon turned to face the building. The glowing Golden Arches sitting atop its roof shone brighter than the moon, acting like a beacon in the night. The demon thought that plastering the walls of the establishment with the visage of a clown was rather tacky, but it was no matter. All that was left was to deliver the package to the Demon King, and then the demon would be rewarded handsomely. After all, the Demon King was very fond of these “chicken nuggets”.

Helena sighed as she peered through the window at the guardian that protected her grove. The wooden golem’s once pristine features were faded and chipped away from years of fighting. She could sense the magic holding the thing together fading, and soon she would have to make another. The witch-hunters’ frequent attempts to capture her may be laughable, but they had a strength in numbers that couldn’t be ignored.

Shaking her head, Helena turned from the wilting flower that was her golem towards her storeroom to begin the preparations for creating a new protector. The spell was a simple one to cast; the hard part was carving the shape of the golem. The more intricately detailed the carving was, the stronger the golem would be, but she was getting older and the carving got more difficult every time.

Nevertheless, Helena got out her tools and began working. First she got the general shape of a humanoid; cutting off huge pieces of wood in the process. Next she carved the anatomy of a well-muscled human. Even in her old age, her wood carving skills were on par with that of the most skilled sculptors in the human cities. Lastly, she carved the details of its face. While the rest of the body is that of a generic non-specific human, she tended to subconsciously sculpt the face to resemble humans she felt fondness for decades ago. This, of course, made it all the more difficult to watch the golem deteriorate over time.

The carving was complete, and it was time to bring the golem to life. Helena retrieved a glowing green stone from her storeroom and held it on to the golem’s chest. She muttered an incantation so ancient that time has long forgotten it’s meaning, and the glowing green color faded from the stone. After a moment, the eyes of the golem shot open; glowing the same as the stone did. The golem turned its head to Helena and opened its mouth to speak.

“Mother?” The golem asked slowly, with a strained and quiet voice. Helena gaped at it for a moment. In all her six-hundred years of living she had never heard of a golem speaking before. “Umm.. Hello.” Helena replied after a long deliberation. “Mother!” The golem said, now visibly excited. It curled it’s lips into a smile; another action that Helena had never seen before. “What is your name?” Helena asked, feeling slightly foolish for talking to a golem of all things. The golem pondered a moment, before responding “Lief!” “Ok, Lief. Are you a boy or a girl?” At this question, Lief’s head tilted to the side much like a dog’s would when they’re confused. “That’s ok Lief. You don’t have to be either. So… Umm…” Helena paused. She really had no idea what to do here. A golem has never come to life like this before. But, she had to admit, Lief reminded her so much of the small children who used to play in the grove… before the witch-hunters came. “What do you want out of life,” Helena decided to ask. Again, Lief pondered. Their movements were stiff but more natural than any golem Helena had seen before. “I want to… help mother!” Lief exclaimed with a large smile on their face.

It was true that Helena had dreamed of having a child for many years, but this was decidedly not what she envisioned. The excited personality of a child that Lief had was in stark contrast to the tall and well-muscled wooden body Lief inhabited. The bodies of previous golems never gave her any pause, but the fact that one calling her mother wasn’t wearing any clothes was slightly uncomfortable, even though she hadn’t sculpted anything revealing in the wood. She decided to dress Lief in one of her black robes for the time being.

“This robe is wonderful,” Lief said with genuine awe, “thank you mother!” Helena had to admit that Lief’s raw enthusiasm was rather growing on her.

The day went on and Helena took Lief on a tour of the grove. In that time she got to learn more about Lief and how they don’t know how or why they are different from other golems, but they have a sort of instinctual knowledge on things they like, want, and need. Lief apparently doesn’t need to eat, drink, or sleep. Helena figured as much but it was good to have confirmation.

As the sun started to hang low in the sky, Helena and Lief retired to the cottage. While Lief may not need to sleep, Helena did. She thought for a moment on how to entertain her… child… while she slept.

“Lief, I need to sleep for the night. Would you be interested in browsing through my library while I do? It might be good to get you caught up on the things you don’t know.” “Sure Mother,” Lief responded with just as much enthusiasm as they reply to everything.

Nodding, Helena closed her bedroom door and laid in her bed. She was… a mother now? The golem she made was now a person. She made Lief, and she couldn’t very well throw them out now. She would have to find another solution to the witch-Hunter raids but she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

Helena drifted to sleep imagining the clothes she’d weave for Lief in the morning; all the long lost hopes and forgotten dreams of having a child flooding back to her.

Kate wiped down the countertop for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t like the small cafe was empty; quite the opposite in fact. On days like this, customers would come in, order maybe one thing, and then linger to do work on their laptops to the sound of gentle raindrops hitting the roof. The sound was quite nice, and Kate wished she could grab her laptop and finish her homework. Unfortunately, despite how few orders were coming in, her manager forbade using personal devices while there were customers in the building.

And so she waited, but it wasn’t all bad. Customers came and went; the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the space every time someone ordered; the taps of umbrellas against doorframe to dry them; the squeaks of the wet shoes of customers who neglected the door mat. Some of Kate’s friends from Uni came to say hi, and her girlfriend Jane came to visit and bring her some lunch. Kate and Jane sat quietly as they ate together, listening to the peaceful noises of the rain. Jane couldn’t stay forever, and she soon left with a kiss from Kate. With almost comedic timing, the rain picked up strength the moment Jane stepped outside. With a giggle, Kate returned to her station and wiped the counter down for the four-hundredth time.

Finally it was closing time. The last customer left with a smile and a wave, and Kate locked the door. The tables were cleaned and the chairs were placed on top of them. She took one last look at the cafe for the day and, for good measure, wiped the counter down for the six-hundredth time. The lights were turned off, the door alarm was armed, and she took off home. She practically skipped down the street, jumping in every puddle she saw with a big smile plastered to her face. It was a long and boring shift, and she was relieved it was over, but she was happy she got to enjoy a rainy day at the cafe.

As the hazy light filtered through the trees growing from the shallow lake, an unassuming man sits in his rowboat; fishing pole in hand. The sun hung low in the orange sky, with plants stretching up above the early morning fog to receive its golden light. The fisherman had his straw hat draped over his tired old eyes, seeming to be entirely unaware of his surroundings.

Despite his unimpressive appearance, in reality the fisherman was a hidden master of the art of cultivation. While the man appeared to be asleep, he was so attuned to the energies of the world that he could sense the Qi, or life energy, of all the wildlife in the lake below him. He sought only to catch what he needed to feed his four disciples and not a fish more, so as to not disrupt the delicate balance of the ecosystem. A cultivator of his level, nearing the fifth stage of the Earth realm, has no real need to eat as their bodies can sustain themselves on Qi alone.

The cultivator had only heard of three others, the Elders of his old sect, who have progressed past his cultivation level. With this power disparity, he could easily lay claim to a large portion of this world, but such unnecessary displays of power didn’t interest him in the slightest. He had no intention of “defying the heavens” as his sect elders taught him to. All he wanted now was to live peacefully and raise his disciples.

His four disciples were more like children to him than students. They were deemed “too weak” to join the sect and were taken in as servents. As time went on, their treatment from the sect elders became worse and worse until one day when the youngest of them spilled tea on the Grand Master’s robe. The grand master sought to execute the child, but the cultivator stood up for them and eventually decided to take them away from that terrible place.

From that moment on, the cultivator raised the children as his own. He taught them the ways of cultivation, but not to defy the heavens. No, he taught them to respect the Earth and all of its children. The cultivator had no doubt in his mind that he had done the right thing in taking the children away from the sect. There was no doubt in his mind of the love he felt for them and there was no end to the pride he felt in the young adults they have grown to be.

Interrupting his introspection, the cultivator felt a tug on his fishing line. He had gotten so lost in his own thoughts he forgotten what he was doing. Carefully, so as to not cause the fish excessive pain, he pulled the fish out of the water to inspect it. It was a large mature male of a common species in this region, big enough to easily feed everyone. If it were an adolescent or a potential mother, he would have thrown it back and tried for another, but this would do. He gently placed his hand on the wriggling fish and quietly thanked it, the lake, and the earth for supplying his children with sustenance. After a moment of silence, he painlessly dispatched the fish.

With the fish tucked away in his basket, the cultivator rowed his small boat back to his quaint little cottage. In the distance he could see three of his disciples meditating in the water along the shore. The youngest must still be in bed, the lazy scamp. A small smile emerged on the cultivator’s face. Today was going to be a good day.

Against the stone wall of the cave, a scraping talon sounds. Echoing through the narrow passageway, the rhythmic scratching and tapping gradually grew faster and more frantic. Soon it became accompanied by deep huffs and high pitched screeches. The sound alone would send a full grown man to his knees in fear, but not a soul was near enough to hear it; the creature made sure of that. Deep inside a large cavern at the top of the highest mountain in the region stood a mighty yet furious beast: a griffin. It’s once illustrious golden feathers were caked in a thick slimy muck. It’s beak and talons were frantically separating the sickly-green mush from its magestic feathers and scraping the abominable substance against the cave walls. The griffin was having a less than ideal day. Griffins are a prideful species; this breed especially. He was a Goldmane Griffin; one of the last of his kind, and he had suffered a humiliating blow whilst fighting a lesser wyvern in the marshes below the mountain. He refused to be seen in this sorry state, and had taken the wyvern’s head in return for the cheek displayed by the wretched thing. He had been scraping, pulling, and cleaning for hours, but he remained vigilant. The respect of the lesser beings was paramount to uphold; he would not stand to be seen filthy. He chittered his beak fearing he might never get clean. His status… his elegance… were they this fragile that they might be shattered by a passing blow from a lesser creature? It took over a day and a half, but his visage was finally beginning to poke through the grime. One last dip in the underground lake should be enough to clear the rest away and… there; perfect. Feeling again like his true magnificent self, he ventured through the cave and took to the sky. Flitting among the clouds, he soared high above the world beneath him; sparing nary a passing glance at the lesser creatures who, no doubt, noticed his absence. He remained the most powerful and magestic being in all the land and the skies. His elegance had not faltered; it was merely… interrupted.

I had always been a useless alchemist. As an apprentice to the Royal Alchemist, my father, everyone expects great things from me. I knew all the recipes and techniques but my potions were never as strong as they should be. My father says that I’m just inexperienced but I know that it’s because I’m only half elf. Because of my human mother, I don’t have the inherent magic that all Elves should. I hear my so-called friends mocking me from behind my back; making fun of my weak potions and small ears. Soon though, that was about to change. There is a particular potion that I’ve been reading up on in my father’s notes. It was outlawed generations ago but I think it’s just what I need to get ahead. When brewed properly, drinking the potion could make even the most magically illiterate human into one of the most powerful wizards in the kingdom. I’ve been gathering ingredients in secret for weeks, and all I need now is pixie dust. Pixie dust is one of the rarest ingredients out there, despite how common pixies are. The dust must be given willingly by a pixie, meaning very few have ever able to acquire it. My father, however, is the king’s personal alchemist; he had to have at least some dust. I snuck into my father’s storeroom after he went to bed and I finally found my prey. In the very back of the storeroom on the highest shelf sat a vial marked “Pixie Dust.” Today is the day. The ingredients are prepared and my cauldron is heated and ready. I started brewing; stirring the bubbling liquid adding ingredients exactly as my father’s notes describe. The liquid turned a sickly shade of green which means it’s time to add the pixie dust and speak the word of power: a word imbued with mana that alchemists use to give potions their effects. Carefully, I sprinkled the pixie dust into the cauldron. If this fails my life as an alchemist would be over; using rare ingredients to brew an illegal potion could get me exiled from the kingdom but if it works… oh if it works… they would have no choice but to recognize me as the greatest alchemist — no, the greatest wizard this kingdom has ever known! I raised my hand above the now golden liquid bubbling in the cauldron and spoke as loudly as clearly as I could: “POWER!” And with that, the liquid grew still as it instantly stopped boiling turned a bright blue. It worked! I quickly bottled the potion, put it to my lips, and drank; not wasting a drop. I could feel the changes right away, but something was wrong. My ears grew more pointed and my teeth sharpened into points; my arms and legs grew and my body quickly became disproportionate and ripped through my clothes. A sharp pain eminated from my shoulder blades and a moment later there was a pop and large bat-like wings burst through my skin and smashed the shelves behind me. I screamed in pain and terror, and two guards burst into the room with my father in tow. They beheld my misshapen form with shock and terror. My father saw the tattered remains of my clothes on the floor and shouted to the guards, “That wretched beast has eaten my child, do not let it escape!” The guards nodded in unison and took up a defensive formation around my father. I saw more guards appear in the doorway as I felt a spear enter my thigh. I let out a roar of pain, shattering glass and shaking the foundations of the castle. Stab after stab; slash after slash; the pain was becoming unbearable. I tried to cry out and say that it’s only me, but the only sound that escaped me was a shriek of pain. I could feel the darkness closing in around me and, as the pain and terror overwhelmed me, I gladly let myself be taken by unconsciousness.

When I awoke I was outside. I shakily opened my eyes and discovered that I still had the horrific misshapen body that I prayed had only been a dream. My hands were malformed with pointed claws and my skin was leathery and green. My limbs were unnaturally thin and my shadow resembled a large bat more than a human. I didn’t immediately recognize where I was, but it was at the center of a crater spanning several kilometers in all directions. Looking at the landmarks, including the broken remains of an all-too familiar town, I realized with horror that this crater sat where the castle once was. No ruins, no remains, no indication at all that a castle once stood here. Had I done this? Was this all because I had made that potion? Did I, in my hunger for power, inhialated the kingdom I once called home? All it took was a sprinkle of pixie dust, a five letter word, and some misguided hope to change my life forever. Was it worth the cost?