The first morning on the planet Zeraphone gave me hope. The night I landed, all I saw was a sandy, lifeless waste, my home and my tomb, but then the green dawn broke over the horizon and washed the world in an eerie light like the color of a séance. Then I knew the place was haunted. There was a past, maybe one completely inscrutable to me, but it was there. There were other souls, souls that had lived and died here, and no city was ever built on anything but bones.
I made up my mind then to fight, to build, and I have survived, though they shot me out of their ship to die in the darkness of space. I found a star. I planted my feet on a long dead world, and I called it back to life.
A trial that lasted seconds, and I was given no voice, no defense, no chance to explain. A harsh punishment mete out, not for my crime, but for myself, for the captain’s hatred. The only reason they shot me at the planet was to make my death last longer.
Now, from the dead dust, I have raised a forest. In the desert, I have built a city. In the light of the green sun, I shall once more ascend, with an army. The dead shall return and rule the heavens.
Tale Told 