The clouds were never a sign of something good and innocent as on other planets and in faraway dimensions. Our skies are ever pure, our earth can live without rain. Our fire and water are sacred sources of magic.
Strange demons bring the clouds to us. They fly on metallic monsters which spit strange fire and lightning, wreaking havoc on our lands and turning them into places of desolation. They try to talk to us in a language called English. We understand them, but since they don’t understand us, they keep attacking. They want our land and our magic. We can’t give it to them; it’s forbidden by the gods.
The gods can’t help us, though. Such interference is forbidden by the universe.
We decided to leave our home and seek for another planet to inhabit.
The demons were never peaceful, and they could only create chaos. So the magic we left on the planet turned against them and ultimately drove them away.
According to legend, when smoke came out of the woods, it was the pagans performing sacrifices, burning beasts and men alike. The prince was skeptical about it and one day, he decided to check.
Venturing into the woods at night, he went into the general direction of the smoke. He came upon a clearing, in the middle of which a wooden figure of an angel was burning. The pagans kneeled around it, their heads touching the ground. They were silent and unmoving.
Something caught the prince’s eye; the angel seemed to be looking right at him. For a second, he thought he saw a tear falling from one of its eyes as it gradually turned into a pile of ash—
One of the wild men yanked the prince towards the clearing. They pointed daggers and bows at him, shouting that it was a crime punishable by death to interrupt their rites.
They seemed to have noticed something was wrong. Looking into his eyes, the pagans recoiled, covering their faces, screaming and running away.