Name: Edge of the World
Story: Starfall
Colors: Amber
Supplies and Styles: Saturation + Canvas + Photography + Miniature Collection + Cut-away + Panorama + Graffitti - February Single & Bitter Challenge (Yellow-coloured Saturation)
Word Count: 700 (56 + 39 + 49 + 87 + 55 + 63 + 81 + 69 + 90 + 93)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of historical events - floods, fights/battles, etc.
Notes: Portcallan, c.000-100. (A look at the founding of Emoyra's capital, after Starfall.)
Summary: The earliest days of Portcallan; mostly from old tales taken from the Callamaine Chronicle.

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i. earth

Before Starfall, before the Powers, there was only twisted, blackened rock and dust where one day Portcallan would lie; one more dead place in a vast dead land.

The western peoples, those of the Second Landing, came there from time to time by sea, but found it empty and untraversable; there was no virtue in it.

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ii. clay

The Powers wrought their great transformation; shaping and reshaping the barren and twisted lands into good, living earth. When their works stretched to the western and southern reaches of this land, they made there a haven for their people.

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iii. mine

The westerly peoples, those of the Second Landing, came first to Calla Haven, before Starfall's people found their way over land and sea. These lands, widened out and renewed, were large enough for both, but they scrabbled and fought: this holding belongs to one, this to another.

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iv. fossil

After the Great Transformation, some barren spaces remained. Whether missed by chance, or too deadened to be restored, or if they had power of their own to resist the change, we do not know.

The peoples marked them out as solemn reminders, and built shrines near to them. The largest and oldest shrine lay south of the river Calla; by a stretch of twisted rock atop a cavern and tunnels of the same. Here people first honoured the Empty Places; here they laid their dead to rest.

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v. ore

They say there were great treasures of starstone beneath the surface on Calla Island, where the Allins now reign, but it was mined out long ago and hidden; buried deep in a secret place. Some say the Allins search for it still, or they know where it is to be found—they have always known.

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vi. soil

In the earliest days, in Calla Haven, Hadamouth, and Dankalla, one other part of the old world remained. Strange and terrible creatures of the sea lived on; untouched by Catastrophe or the Great Transformation. They attacked fishing boats, despoiled the havens and the shore. They say they lured people into the sea, if they were not rooted deep enough in the empowered earth.

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vii. mud

The Powers dispersed into the world, and the Lesser Powers after them; only their spirit still lived on. In those days, as if it was now free of their hold, the world let loose great storms and quakes.

A great wave swept up the Calla river, flooding all the lands, heedless of whether they were westerly people or Starfall's own. The waters rose right up to High Point. They covered the Haven, stole lives and livings, and left behind endless mud.

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viii. clod

The beleaguered peoples sheltering from the waves at High Point were not alone. They had a guardian; a lesser, local Power. They named her Sharika. She plucked drowning people from the waters; she turned the waves aside at Watersmeet, and saved the settlements east of the River Ilie.

The peoples gathered together there still argued, looking for where to place the blame—Starfall and the Powers, or westerly unbelievers.

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ix. dirt pile

The peoples settled in Calla swore a truce, before the year of the great floods. It held true, save for three of the westerly peoples, Adan and Larn and Bevi. They blamed Starfall's unholy Powers for the floods, and seized lands south of the river for their own.

The Callan peoples fought back, but they rebelled harder, their band storming Calla Haven, though it was barely freed from the waters.

They lie in the ground between High Point and the Haven to this day: the truce-breakers, never to be forgotten.

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x. dust

The oldest copy of the Callamaine Chronicle was written centuries after the earliest days it records. Its binding cracks, pages crumble, and ink fades, but it remains younger than the city. The building that holds it, despite its weathered stones, is even younger than the book.

History's dust lies lost in the city, under the streets and houses. Traces live in walls, carved stones, or tall stories. It breathes yet in its people. And underneath the Empty Temple the dead and twisted cavern remains yet, keeping its secrets as close as the sea.