In the early days of man, sunbaked ashes covered the earth, remnants of the Ancient’s wars. Their cities, now towering ruins above vast wastelands. The monstrous beasts Existence created to combat the Ancients, the Cuheksen, ruled over the desolated land. They feasted on the flesh of man. They grew drunk on the blood of the young. The Gods looked on as their children were hunted, yet Existence was pleased. Their creation flourished in the windswept deserts which now covered the earth.

  Humanity, in their grief, bid the Gods to help them. “Why did you make us?” They asked. “Why must we struggle for food and water? Why must we be hunted like mere animals?”

  Mésēíz?sa, the earth so scarred by the Ancients, heard their pleas. He thought upon the Ancients. How he played with them. How he laughed with them. How he came to love them. How they burned him. How they bruised his body. How they tricked his younger sisters. He calmed his mind as his heart longed for what was no longer there. He cast aside his memories of the Ancients, locking them away. Hearing the pleas of humanity, he opened his heart to them. He watched as they eked out what little moisture they could from drying riverbeds. As they chased insects and ate mosses to survive. He saw them build fires at night and sing songs of hope, despite the desolation around them.

  Mésēíz?sa smiled and came to one woman, Mese?i, as she scraped mosses off of boulders. He whispered in her ear, commanding her to go to the mountains. Upon hearing his voice, Mese?i froze in fear. His voice, though a mere whisper to him, boomed in her head, rattling her bones.

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  “Do you not know the voice of the man on which you stand?” Mésēíz?sa asked.

  The woman fell to her knees, horrified. “Why are you here,” she asked. “What wrongdoings have I done?”

  “None, dearest creation of my brother and sister. I have heard your pleas. Now go uphill to see the salvation you seek.”

  The woman ran up the mountain, boulders and stones moving out of her path. The sun’s rays cooled as she climbed the mountain. Once at the summit of the mountain, she was met with a man with skin of polished onyx. He towered over her, emerald eyes piercing through her soul. Afraid, she took a step back, but recalled the words of Mésēíz?sa. With as much courage as she could muster, she walked towards the imposing figure. He smiled and stepped aside, showing a verdant field. Antelope grazed upon the lush grass while birds flew above the skies. She turned to where the man was standing, only to see a grand marula tree in his stead.

  “All the land across the mountains is for you to inherit,” Mésēíz?sa said in his booming voice. “Lead your people to prosperity.”

  Behind Mese?i, she heard the rambling chatter of her clan and their Curevken servants as they walked up the mountain. “Behold, the glory of Mésēíz?sa,” she proclaimed as her clan reached the summit of the mountain.

  Thus the clan of Ghensa came to be, blessed by the Earth itself. From this one clan came the mightiest of peoples, the Evye and the Senwe. The inheritors of all the world.