Shattados
In the time before the sands, when the winds of Sulm carried only blessings, a golden age reigned across the southern plains. It was a land of music, harvest, and radiant cities, ruled by a line of kings said to be beloved of the gods. But pride has a way of drawing shadows, and the tale of Shattados—last king of Sulm—is the tale of a kingdom’s fall into silence and dust.
Summary
King Shattados was the most radiant of Sulm’s rulers—so says the tale. His court shimmered with opulence, his voice swayed armies, and his gaze could still the hearts of beasts. It is whispered that Shattados wished to live forever—not for fear of death, but because he believed none were worthy to succeed him. His hunger for eternal dominion grew, and one night, beneath a starless sky, a stranger came to his throne.
This figure—neither man nor god—bore a gift: a crown wrought from a single thread of obsidian, so dark it drank the moonlight. The stranger offered no words, only a gaze like distant thunder. Shattados, driven by vanity or fate, placed the crown upon his brow.
In that instant, the tale says, the gods of Sulm wept. The pact between king and land was broken.
- Fields blackened and grain turned to ash.
- The sky cracked and howled, releasing unending winds of fire and salt.
- Cities sank, devoured by the earth itself, swallowed in silence and despair.
- The people of Sulm twisted into crawling mockeries of their former grace—some say they became the asabi, others claim they roam as dune wraiths, shrieking their forgotten names into the dust.
Shattados alone stood untouched, the crown fused to his flesh, his body petrified in eternal regret.
Where Sulm once stood lies only the Bright Desert, a land where no shadow lingers long, and memories rot like fruit beneath the sun. Some say Shattados’s throne still stands beneath the sands, guarded by wind and curse. Others speak of lost tombs, sunken obelisks, and serpents who remember names long thought buried.
Bards and caravan-tellers whisper that Shattados still rules—not as king, but as a bound spirit whose mind reels endlessly through visions of his own pride. And when the desert storms rise and whisper your name, they say it is the voice of Shattados, warning you:
“All that is gold may burn. All that is proud shall break. I wore the crown, and I buried the sun.”
Thus ends the tale of Shattados, the Gilded King who doomed his realm with a single choice. Whether myth or omen, his legend endures—in every shifting dune, in every cracked ruin, and in every dream scorched by regret.
Ask ChatGPT
Comments