After proudly patting myself in the back, I put the final touches in the making of a city I had constructed in my head. Before I had finished writing it down, I realized time had gone by so fast, the deadline for the HRChallenge was gone. I was then slapped in the face with the most unsettling of news. The second part of the challenge was to destroy this marvel (if you don’t mind me saying so) of my own creation. In a way I’m happy that I had a hard time writing the description of my city because now I can attribute this destruction to something else.
As I describe the downfall of a beautiful city, note that these events are the very reflection of my devastated heart and what I felt when I read the final terms of the challenge (I’m not kidding!). When my beloved city died, it was swift, through and permanent. I will forever be weary of challenges. Thank you OM, you have opened my eyes to the emotional perils of writing challenges.
The Legend of Caillean’s Cliffs Conclusion
In the end, when no outsider man could enter the city without explicit permission, when no vessel could approach the cliff’s shores with out risking the fury of three sea currents converging at the point of the Shaitan shores, when no beast or human could endure the treacherous terrain that surrounded the veiled city of Caillean, it was the innocence and curiosity of a child that brought down the city. A powerful catalyst, a seemingly harmless metal sphere, set off a chain of events that ultimately destroyed this impenetrable stronghold. Ancient and dark magic was released within the carved tunnels of the titan cliffs. Using the veins of lucent crystal that were natural to its stone walls, the catalyst transmitted a beacon that allowed Stygian sorcery to overcome the distracter spells protecting the city.
At the edge of the Shaitan Shoals, where throngs of razor sharp rocks formed deadly trammels, several figures stood in eager anticipation to watch the silent eruption of shimmery energy which Stygian sorcery was known for. Poor judgment drove them to witness their enemy’s demise. Not far enough to avoid the fall out, soon after an almost indistinguishable shimmer in the air, a gentle touch of icy wind enveloped their bodies. After they lost vision, a thread of consciousness pointed to a painful and rapid hardening of their skin as it began to freeze.
In the safe distance of the horizon, over the calm waters of the open sea, the sound of trumpets from the Dreadnought Warship emitted, with deadly accuracy, a set of rumbles that converged on the peninsula. The sound waves shattered expeditiously balconies and gardens, temples and bath houses.
Along with material artifacts, in just a few seconds, sound waves reverberated through all living creatures and pulverized in its entirety all that once existed in what we now call The Devil’s Bed peninsula.