-Chapter 1-

Religion was no doubt a thing of the past. Gone were the days when people would pray to the higher powers for prosperity, fertility or wealth. Gone were the days when it was believed that high above some puppet master held the strings to the mortal plane. Yes, those days where gone, only to be replaced by days of sorrow, darkness, and greed. This wasn’t how it began, though. At first mankind learnt to live without the gods, to be happy and prosperous on their own. Shocking, considering how fragile the heart can be.

Osiath, being the lazy man he was, had not only left the pot on the stove, but had left the animals outside, as well as not turning the fire off. He instead spent the day lying in his bed, which was right by the hearth, and near the door to the fields, wondering at where the gods had gone. He ignored the bleating of his sheep, ignored the crackling of the flame as he tried in his mind to solve the dilemma, which haunted everyone in Aonia. Thus is how his flock escaped, his supper burnt, and his house began to light on fire. It all started with a single ember, leaping from the crimson flames onto the dry wood boards of Osiath’s floor. The fire spread quickly, but not so quickly that the lazy man had no chance of escape. He leaped out of bed, all thoughts of gods gone from his head as he rushed to the door. Remembering his supper, he reached back into the house to retrieve his burnt bread, before rushing back outside. He looked out upon the fields, trying desperately to spot his sheep, the last thing he had to rely on. Sadly, the fluffy white creatures had already escaped; wandering somewhere Osiath was too lazy to go. Turning back to what used to be his house, Osiath glanced down at the pile of debris. There was nothing worth salvaging. All he had now was a burnt loaf of bread, and the clothes on his back.

Osiath slumped against a tree, biting into his burnt bread. It tasted horrible, but his recent disaster had left him hungry. He finished the loaf quickly, practically inhaling the blackened bread. He sighed; there was nothing left in this world for him. He had been barely getting by on just his sheep, and now they were gone.

Glancing to the sky, Osiath noted that the sun was slowly moving closer to the horizon. It would be evening soon, and he had no place to go to escape the cold night air. There would be an inn in town, so he should probably head there. He pushed himself up off the tree, grunting from his own weight.

“I should maybe stop being so lazy, seeing as I’ll have to get actual jobs in order to get money,” he mumbled, shuffling off in the general direction of the nearest town; a town he had never in his 35 years of life visited, even though it was but a few miles away from his home. Why? Because Osiath was lazy, so lazy that his house burnt down, his flock ran off, and to top that off, he burnt his lunch.