South of the great mountains flows a large river. The gigantic glaciers atop the mountains feed it with clean, hygienic water that brings life to the barren lands. This mighty river is called Incus by the local people who live in settlements along its banks. It flows for hundreds of miles before finally reaching the great ocean.
No one in the Bedouin village has ever seen the ocean, yet its mythical stories circulate through every household. Between these settlements and the sea, lies a vast jungle which is home to dreadful horrors. Fortunately, these creatures dwell deep within the forest and only rarely come near its edges. But whenever they do come, death and destruction follow.
The people of Baduin village and the nearby settlements have established strict rules forbidding anyone from approaching the forest. Occasionally, Groups of soldiers arrive from distant kingdoms to hunt these horrors. These soldiers usually stay in these villages and the locals provide them with shelter and food. In return, the soldiers deal with any beast that traspasses their lands by coming out of the forest and threatens the villagers. However, such visits by the Soldiers are rare—occurring only once every few years.
The soldiers also bring with them, news of the world and fascinating stories, which the villagers love to hear. After all, storytelling and gossip are deeply ingrained in human nature.
The Bedouin village consists of a few dozen huts, where the people live according to their ancient Ways. In the center of the village stands a large pavilion meant to host any guests. A few are children playikh in its courtyard.
At the edge of the courtyard, beneath a large Neem tree, sits a young man reading an old scripture. The young man has big almond-shaped eyes, red irises, thin lips, and copper-colored skin. Due to a genetic mutation, his hair is white. Because of his unusual appearance, most children in the village avoid him. As a result, he spends most of his time alone. Strangely, this solitude has helped him learn to read and write. He is one of the very few people in the settlement who can read.
"Yaris! Come and join us for lunch," an old woman called from the courtyard.
Selena, an 85-year-old woman and the mother of the village chief, is a kind and perceptive figure. She played a central role in raising her grandson and understands how to deal with sensitive and introverted individuals. Because of her, Yaris has enjoyed a respectful upbringing. No one in the village dares to mock him, fearing her wrath.
"I'll come in a bit," Yaris replied, not looking up from his manuscript.
He was finishing a scroll titled The History of the Helien Kingdom, which had been brought to the village by a scholar seven decades ago. Yaris doesn't know whether the kingdom still exists or not—he simply devours anything he can read.
This habit has cost the chieftain's household a significant amount of money. But for Yaris, such small sacrifices are worth it. The village elders understand that having an educated individual among them elevates their standing in the broader community.
"The weather pattern is different this year. I can feel it. Those old folks' senses are dulled," said the 85-year-old lady. "They can't detect it. A storm is coming. Why can't they understand the Anomely? Such an untimely spring has never occurred. Look—why is the sun is so hot at this time of the year..."
Indeed, her concerns were valid and Yaris agreed with them.But who would listen to him? The elders considered him a child. The kids thought of him as an anomaly. He could only speak freely with Grandma Salina or the First Elder, Coursier.
But Coursier was so old that no one could make sense of his ramblings. Heck, just yesterday he was murmuring about some catastrophic event called "The Flood," in which water drowned the lands and both people and beasts perished. Where would such a humongous amount of water even come from, anyway?
Yaris didn't share the old man's mumbo jumbo with Grandma Salina, thinking it would only worry her.
He quietly finished his lunch and left for the mountainside.
He liked solitude. And what better dwelling is there for someone like him than a mountain cave? These caves were 75 kilometers from the Bedouin village. He mounted his personal mule, Seeker, which was already loaded with all his necessities for the journey.
The trip to the furthest settlement of the community took around ten hours. There, he spent the night, and the next morning he continued on to the mountains. By noon, he reached his cave dwelling and unloaded his supplies. Then he lay down to take a nap.
Meanwhile, back in the stream near the village, the water had begun to rise slowly. Throughout the night, the water level kept climbing—but no one noticed.
At dawn, the villagers were awakened by the cocophny of water.