The Generation of Peace
Far from the Ancient City, in an abandoned place rotting with dead rats and flowing with sewage, a group of ragged, former civilians worked from sunrise to sunset, trying to build a civilization in an almost impossible environment. The baking sun withered and scorched any crops that the Civilians tried to grow, leaving them scavenging for scraps on the chalky ground. One of these Civilians, Lucifer, was a dark-haired, chubby fifteen-year-old boy with amber eyes that seemed to give off a golden glow. Every day when the rays of the snow-white moon shone through the window of his hut, he begged the Founders — veterans of the battles of the Ancient City — to tell him about the Rebels and how his group was driven from their home.
“Why, oh, why did the Rebels force us to leave, brave Founder?” Lucifer asked curiously.
“No one knows, dear child. They attacked us in the dead of night — we never expected it. They must have formed their own rebel group a long time ago, to recruit so many people to their side. They could have peacefully asked for what they wanted, instead of fighting for it. Those Rebels burned the Ancient City until all was left were piles of ashes — of buildings and of Civilians. We barely escaped with our lives!” the Founder exclaimed.
Clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles turned as white as snow, Lucifer growled, “Those dirty scoundrels drove us out for no reason, and they will pay for it!”
That night, Lucifer twisted and turned in his sleep, trying to get rid of the bloodcurdling screams of his fellow Civilians in his nightmares. “Arghh! I can’t take it anymore! I must avenge my people. If those cursed rebels hadn’t driven us out of our territory, we wouldn’t be suffering so much!”
Determined as he was, Lucifer still would not stand a chance against the dangers of the mountains and the forest beyond. Huge packs of up to three dozen wolves lurked in the shadows of trees and venomous snakes were known to swarm parts of the forest. He needed his best friend — someone who would be useful on his quest. Silent as a wolf searching for his pack, Lucifer snuck out of his family’s hut, carefully making his way toward Chase’s hut. Widely known as the “King of the Hunt,” Chase was the fastest and most accurate hunter in the New City. In only two hours, Chase had hunted down three deer, which fed the entire New City for a whole night.
“Chase!” Lucifer whispered as he reached his friend’s hut. “I need your help.”
“Help with what?” Chase murmured back, his brown shaggy hair swaying and his obsidian eyes reflecting the moonlight.
“I must find the Ancient City and discover why the Rebels forced us out!” Lucifer answered.
“Are you sure about this, Lucifer? Those Rebels are seriously dangerous! They have no mercy for anyone other than themselves,” Chase told him, remembering what the Founders had taught every child in the New City.
“Well, if they have no mercy, then I won’t either.” Lucifer declared.
“Okay, brother. I’m going to trust you on this one,” Chase glanced around cautiously to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
“Alright, let’s see. We will need two liters of water, several sandwiches, extra clothes, and mosquito repellent,” Lucifer listed.
“And I will bring my hunter’s bow and arrows, in case the monsters find us,” Chase added.
Together, they took off, running into pitch-darkness, leaving their homes, wondering if they would ever see their families again, and radiating determination like burning flames.
