Opium Dreams

On the far eastern corner of the known world, in the barren land of the dragon folk, and as the hearts of kings were fixated on exploration and glory, an old flame rekindled as the hundred years came to a close.  A small flame, almost imperceptible. One may even call it a glitch in the centuries-old system. A small glitch, a minor error to be rectified at the most local level of government. A cigarette butt to be stumped without hesitation, and without consequences. The local sheriff did just that. He saw the threat and, afraid of catching fire, he stumped on it mercilessly. He persecuted the perpetrators with the most capital punishment known to man. The punishment of the one God. Fire.  What he failed to realize, what they all failed to realize, was that words have meaning in the hearts of men. Time can sometimes cover it up, like dust on stone. But the meaning remains, hidden, waiting to be conjured. And these words were no ordinary words, these were the words of Panjia, the prayers

This is an interesting story, Nile, but I find it necessary to point this out to you from the start; A long time ago, a group of people, collectively known as the dragon folk, forgot who they are. In essence, that is what this whole story boils down to. Everything else I'm about to tell you is details and background noise. As with all stories, it can start at any point in the history of this land you call the Ghentii region. However, I'll start it at a place that is particularly close to my heart. When man and dragon became one. His name was Khen. His mother was a warrior of one of the rural tribes of the Hexis. His father was a cursed dragon. Their union was unlikely yet inevitable in hindsight. Their meeting was what we call a tectonic event; a simple, seemingly random event that changes the face of the world. Khen was his name. It was his only name, chosen by his mother. The legend says that it came to her in a fever dream. He was the first king of the dragon folk. He united