Gaia is dying. The very skies tore apart, raining fire and ashes down, the seas boiling as the ground quaked. Strange creatures running away from brimstone and fire as they prolonged the inevitable. Yet, as all things do, Gaia will calm. And give birth to new things.

For I am Gaia itself. Mother of all beings who live and die on this world. Many cycles have passed, giving birth to bloodthirsty creatures, who in time were replaced by wise scholars. Yet I see another cataclysm coming, and this will end the cycle. All will perish, even I, myself will dry out and disappear. I look at my children and see nothing but rabbles of sheep, fighting each other as they struggle for survival. Foolish creatures who look at tomorrow as if they would live forever. They steal, plunder and rape as they indulge themselves in a never-ending haze of pleasure and greed.

I look at them sadly, as they are nonetheless my children, and I can only look at them as a mother would. I gaze outwards, asking myself, Will they persevere and survive the coming calamity? Or will they perish like all those before them.