Book 9: Chapter 1
It began long, long ago.
One driven man set out on a journey. His oppressed and enslaved people, stripped of their pride and cultural heritage, found no salvation in this life or the next. Cries for rescue went unheard, a master’s whip and scorn their only reward.
“You slaves have no god. Your only fate is to be mocked, persecuted, and consumed.”
Most of his brethren suffered this derision in silence. After all, no words could save them. Despite endless trials and tribulations, emancipation never arrived. It was enough to leave one wondering if the gods despised them.
He was different, however.
“Our divine savior is somewhere on this vast continent. They just haven’t heard us yet.”
That was his conviction.
“However long it takes, I’ll find a god to deliver the Flahm.”
With that, he departed on a holy quest. His name is long forgotten. Posterity only knows this traveler with the fiery red hair and bright crimson eyes as the “Founder.”