Need I apologise?
Forgive me for another short entry. The one I intended to release today, “RSC LORE – Excerpt 2 – The Pale Torturer,” has become a project in itself, and I do not want to rush it.
RSC LORE – Mythos entry 1 – Kiah
Where is Kiah, and what relevance has she to Anwar and the events of RSC? This I might never answer.
The following entry was adapted from my giant offline wiki (which I currently refer to as my “mythos wiki,” if you were questioning the significance of the title). It is a glance at my writing process, a description of one of my planets that I never intended to show.
Kiah was a frenzied world of a thousand islands and few veritable continents. Her greatest landmasses persisted near her poles, while densely vegetated islands mottled her from her knees and shoulders to her waist. Volcanoes spilt from these islands’ centres, forming fresh peninsulas and merging them into an igneous lattice.
Two small moons orbited Kiah and each other, creating irregular and hostile tides, and through her thick atmosphere sometimes pierced the rays of distant and dead stars.
Wild and mighty storms slashed at her, bloating her twisted jungles and sprawling fens. And such tempests grew and fizzled like the rage of the Ancients that once pressed rock and root into her clay.
But more feral than Kiah’s tides and weather were her occupants.
Each of her islands hosted a unique food chain, often ruled by an apex predator incapable of satiation, whose gluttony razed its home and self and ushered in new chains and new predators. Her oceans too were rich with life, and its species were no less glabrous than those of the land. Those of Kiah’s creatures that were furred or feathered supplemented for her great monsoons with oils and arboreal hidings… or expired and added to her their proteins.
“Spiralling towers of cloud whip up the skin of a blue sphere, and for as many clouds as I can see, there are equally as many shards and piles of green. Each is a jungle on shores steep, battered by wind and wave.
To the poles recede caps of ice and snow, vast and deep enough to be worlds of their own. And beyond them is the dark of space, the terrain in which we slept for a million years.
Yes, Kiah is angry this day. But breaks in the deluge let in shapes of light, and I grow impatient for the feel of real sun upon my skin.”
— Alexander Breaker (printed on a piece of glass found by a caster dark and old)