Chapter 1: Darkness
I have found myself in a land called Barovia. My senses reel as they grapple with the new, strange, and unsettling surroundings. Barovia is a place shrouded in an oppressive gloom that seems to leech the color from everything it touches. The air here is heavy, not just with humidity, but with a palpable sense of unease that clings to my skin like the mist that shrouds the land.
I come from a place that is vastly different. In my world, the Hollow World, we live beneath an unending sky of light. The sun hangs perpetually at the zenith of the sky, a vibrant, ever-present crimson orb that bathes the world below in an eternal day. Here in Barovia, I've witnessed the sun disappear beneath the horizon, leaving behind a void so black it feels as if the world itself has been extinguished. It's a sight that chills my bones, the raw absence of light, the tangible emptiness it leaves behind, a void in the sky and in the pit of my stomach. The night, as the locals call it, terrifies me. Back home, the darkness was a stranger, an alien concept woven into the bedtime stories of children, a symbol of something unattainable and unfathomable. In Barovia, it's a reality, a terrifying cycle of the sun abandoning the world to shadowy oblivion, leaving us vulnerable and exposed.
We are a people of the light in the Hollow World. We have learned to thrive under the constant glow of the sun, our cities gleaming structures of crystal and stone, our roads white as the sun-kissed sand. I look upon Barovia's structures of wood and metal, darkened by the weather and time, standing stark against the ever-gray sky, and I cannot help but feel a pang of homesickness.
The scarcity of metal in my homeland has made us resourceful. We've honed the art of crafting with what the land has to offer, stone and crystal and precious few metals, our hands expertly shaping these into tools and ornaments. Here, in Barovia, I've seen more metal in a day than I might have in a lifetime back home. Iron and steel, gold and silver, fashioned into weapons, tools, even coins! The abundance astonishes me and fuels a curious excitement, a desire to touch and create, to feel these cold, hard materials beneath my fingers. And yet, the novelty does not outweigh the sense of dislocation I feel. In my homeland, the weather was always kind, the land nurtured by an unseen power that we understood came from the Immortals themselves. There were no clouds or storms, just a consistent, comfortable climate that bred predictability and stability.
Barovia has shown me the sky's tears, a phenomenon called rain. Water falls from the heavens, soaking the land and its people. It's an eerie experience, the sky weeping while the world below carries on. At first, I was alarmed, wondering if the sky was expressing its sorrow. I have been told this is normal, a way for the land to drink. I marvel at the ingenuity of the irrigation systems back home, how we channeled water from the underground springs and rivers, giving life to our crops. Now I've seen the sky itself perform that task, the rhythm of life governed by these outpourings from above.
Barovia is as strange and mysterious as the darkness that blankets it each day. The wilderness is lush, yes, but ominous, echoing with the cries of beasts I've yet to learn about. I yearn for the familiar calls of the creatures that roamed the Hollow World, their voices a comforting backdrop to daily life. The creatures here are of a more sinister sort, with glowing eyes that pierce the darkness and eerie howls that send chills down my spine.
In my homeland, magic was a harmonious part of life, a gentle force that breathed life into our world and preserved our way of life. Here, magic hums with a different tune, its rhythm irregular, its melody unpredictable. It's both intriguing and unsettling, a dance with the unknown that keeps you on your toes.
The people of Barovia move with a wary caution, their eyes revealing a familiarity with fear. It's a stark contrast to the fearless vigor of my people, whose lives were lived under the ever-watchful eye of the Immortals. We danced in the unending sunlight, our laughter a chorus that echoed across the orange sky. Here, laughter is a rare melody, swallowed by the pervasive silence and the mournful howl of the wind. As I pen these words, a longing for my home swells within me. For its vibrant colors, its ceaseless light, its radiant life. But I find myself intrigued by Barovia, this world of shadows, shrouded in mystery, steeped in a dread I can't quite comprehend. Despite the unease, there is an undeniable allure, a call to delve deeper, to understand, to learn.
Though the blackened sky sends shivers down my spine, I've begun to see the beauty in the darkness. The glittering array of stars scattered across the night canvas, the way the moonlight shimmers off the dew-kissed foliage, the quiet tranquility that the night brings, they are all alien yet enchanting.
Arriving in Barovia is like stepping into an entirely different universe, but I am here now. I am ready to navigate its peculiarities, learn its secrets, and maybe in time, call this place home. Even as the darkness engulfs me, I find solace in the thought that, just like the sun of Barovia, I too will rise. For now, I am a man caught between two worlds - one of perpetual light, and the other, the realm of moving shadows. As I journey through this land, I carry a piece of the Hollow World within me, a beacon of eternal daylight in a realm of twilight. This is my tale, the tale of a man who stepped out of the sun and into the shadows.
Welcome, my friends, to my new reality.
