TRUE BELIEVER
In True Believer, Ameer Kiani tells the story of Terian, a fallen prince who survives the destruction of Planet Zeal. Surrounded by the corpses of his own people, betrayed by zealots, and outmatched by the towering Nustarians, he becomes the last witness to a civilization’s collapse. His journey begins in blood, smoke, and fading faith.
Oh Zubek, my name is Terian and I stand on weary and war weakened legs as your final follower. Planet Zeal lies in ruins, with pillars shattered, citadels broken, and crimson blood drying on the bodies scattered across the ground. Once I was a prince of Trycarius and a high ranking Zamindorian, a commander who rode at the front of our cavalry and stood beside the generals in our artillery corps. Now I am the last survivor of a proud and ancient people.
The shrieks of my lieutenant echo through my mind like a coin falling into a deep and ringing well. My comrades fell to the sword and spear during our defeat at the hands of the Nustarians. Their greater stature and strength made them towering figures on the battlefield, a physical disparity that remains a cosmic mystery I still ponder.
The Nustarians stood erect in white armor beneath a bright and vivid sky. In contrast, the sky above our scarlet clad Zamindorians was muted and heavy, and some of our exhausted men lowered their heads as if they sensed that even the heavens had turned against us. The disciplined Nustarian formation held firm while we struggled to keep our lines intact.
The Rasgard faction broke ranks before the horns even finished sounding. Their hawkish warriors rushed forward like blood hungry berserkers, shouting that no power was greater than our Lord Zubek. They ignored my commands and the commands of the other general, driven by blind zeal instead of strategy.
Their reckless charge met the Nustarian shield wall head on. The impact rang out like iron striking stone. The shield wall did not break. Sparks flared. Blood hit the ground in heavy droplets. In that moment, I felt the same sting of betrayal that marked the downfall of Ostar, the hero from our ancient epic who fell to a silver spear thrown by a turncoat Zamindorian. As Ostar fell, so did we.
War tore through the seven kingdoms of Zamindor. Our merchants, miners, and migrants were caught between the disciplined Nustarian horde and the reckless fervor of the Rasgard faction. Their blind faith carried us into ruin, and my own faith cracked beneath the weight of the bodies around me.
Now I walk alone across the remnants of a civilization that once stretched across Father Time himself. The air tastes of smoke and iron. The sky is red with memory. And I remain, the last witness to the fall of my people, carrying the question that haunts me.
Where were you, Zubek, when our small and broad soldiery was decimated.
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