Orst sat on his throne, unmoving. His was a kingdom of dust and silence, and for a thousand years it had remained so.
The day came when a lost tribe, weary and malnourished, entered his lands. They halted, lacking even the strength to raise camp.
Orst stood and gathered his magic.
The land shuddered with memories of past wrath. Dark clouds gathered over the fearful tribe. The ground shook again as green shoots burst forth. Fat drops of rain fell and the seedlings became trees, bore fruit.
Orst had been a poor king. He vowed to be a better god.
Author bio: John Xero believes everyone should be given a second chance. And everyone should make the best of it if they are.