Alsifar's Entrance

Alsifar sat on the new ground he had just raised back from the ocean. He felt that a small island wouldn't accommodate the four of them suitably enough, and it was really his fault the rest of the land had become submerged anyway. He was aiming for the waters several miles off the coast; the water would act as a good enough cushion to absorb most of the impact blow. Unlike on many other planets, the water on this planet was, though similar in structure, thicker and gelatinous. This had the pleasant effect of not creating massive tidal waves whenever something big crashed into it.

Which is why the inhabitants of this world are great star-travelers, but make their home in great domes under the depths of the ocean. They were almost as advanced as his race had been, and were, in fact, much more alike than he had first thought a hundred years ago when he had first discovered them. They had created a self-sustaining communications disruptor which scrambled any signal other than those predetermined by the pilots and governors. It took him a very long time to find that signal, and still longer to decipher their odd language, which consisted of clicks, slurrs, guttoral noises and nasal squeaks, and yet graceful and legato-smooth at the same time - anyone listening would think of an elvish chant from the ancient fairy tales of Earth.

He looked out over the ocean and wondered what they were doing now. His space-time platform was destroyed and would never again be able to reconstruct. He would never again get the opportunity to learn from their past and descover their future. This race had much hope of becoming one of the greatest races of all time - even greater than Alsifar himself, the sole survivor of his race, dedicated to the forever imprisonment of the Umbering. But now, he would have to look over the water and wonder.

A rustle behind him made him jump with fright. He whirled around, his hands already glowing with the solpower he had called to bear.

He relaxed when he discovered the noise had been caused by one of the sleeping figures behind him - the girl, most likely. Now that he was outside his protective platform, he had become increasingly paranoid he would be attacked by the Umbult Cultists at any moment, even though he knew full well they were trapped in the same prison as the Umbering itself.

His power was already activated, and he had no choice but to expend the energy he had called, so he shot the blazing white energy at the fire, making it billow with heat, now burning solfuels rather than wood.

He was satisfied with the result; it made the surrownding area much more comfortable, which enabled the three young figures to sleep a deeper sleep - one they desparately needed. When they wake, he thought, they will have much less opportunity to rest then they would like.

Until then, however, leave them be.