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Paperback Simon The Great: Sky-Throne of Mirad Book

ISBN: B0F2Z371TN

ISBN13: 9798315981909

Simon The Great: Sky-Throne of Mirad

The wind, a relentless sculptor, howled its ancient song around the peaks that cradled the city of Mirad. Below, stretching further than any living memory could recall, lay the Great Drowning - the endless, grey-blue expanse that had swallowed continents and civilizations whole. What had once been the vibrant, sprawling world was now a vast, silent ocean, punctuated only by the jagged teeth of the highest mountain ranges, the last refuges of humankind. Mirad was arguably the greatest of these refuges. Not a city in the old sense, built wide and sprawling, but one built *up* and *in*. It clung to the sheer face of Mount Cinder, a labyrinth of carved dwellings, precarious rope bridges spanning dizzying chasms, and terraced hydroponic farms clinging desperately to sun-drenched ledges. Life here was vertical, lived on the edge, under a sky that seemed both achingly close and terrifyingly vast. And ruling over this precarious jewel was Simonus, called by his people, Simon The Great. He was not a king born to velvet cushions and easy decree. His greatness was etched onto his face by the harsh mountain sun and the biting winds, visible in the calluses on his hands from gripping rock and rope, and reflected in eyes the colour of the deep, rare mountain pools - eyes that had seen too much loss and yet held an unwavering resolve. He ruled from the Sky-Throne, a simple seat carved from the mountain's heart on the highest accessible balcony of Mirad, overlooking the city and the abyss below. The title "Great" hadn't come from conquest - there was little left to conquer but rock and thin air. It came from foresight, from the brutal pragmatism needed to keep thousands alive where nature dictated they should perish. It came from the rationing systems he'd implemented, the engineering marvels of water collection tapping into glacial melt, the strict laws that governed every precious resource, from breathable air in the deeper caverns to the distribution of the nutrient paste cultivated in the bio-domes. His reign was defined by scarcity. The most precious commodity, more valuable than the salvaged metals or the geothermal energy tapped from the mountain's core, was green. The few places where soil, sunlight, and altitude conspired to allow natural growth were known as the Sky-Gardens. These isolated plateaus, often days of treacherous travel away, were Mirad's lifeline, producing the grains, tubers, and hardy mosses that supplemented their manufactured food. They were oases of life in a world of stone and water, guarded more fiercely than any treasure vault of the old world. Simonus stood on his balcony, the wind tugging at his thick, grey-streaked hair and the simple, insulated cloak he wore. He wasn't adorned with jewels or gold, but wore a circlet of polished obsidian, a stone born from the mountain's fire, cool and unyielding like his rule. His gaze swept over Mirad: smoke curling from ventilation shafts, figures moving like ants across swaying bridges, the glint of sunlight on the poly-carbonate domes of the farms. Below, the endless water shimmered, a constant, haunting reminder of all that was lost. A runner, breathing heavily in the thin air, approached, bowing low. "Great Simonus". He was Simon The Great, the ruler of the last bastion. His greatness wasn't a luxury; it was a burden, heavy as the mountain itself. The world had changed, drowned in sorrow and water, but life clung stubbornly to the heights. And as long as he drew breath, Simonus would ensure that the heart of Miranda, perched precariously between the endless sky and the devouring sea, continued to beat. The journey to Veridian Peak would be perilous, the threat unknown, but the alternative - failure, starvation, the slow fading of Mirad's light - was unthinkable. The Great ruler gripped the cold stone of the balcony, his knuckles white, ready to face whatever new horror this changed world had thrown at them.

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