I can still see it, still remember how I felt when I laid eyes on it. Blinking to wake up, telling myself I was already awake. The great palace listing to one side, like a drunk hunched against the wall. Still gleaming and gold. Was Rastakhan still inside? King of a crooked throne.
The morning sun glimmering off the seawater that crept into the forum. Pretty but for the jagged fissure tearing up the tile. We thought that was the worst of it. But the Cataclysm had only begun.
Water up a foot by the next evening. A week later, high tide came up to the market awnings. Still the sun shone. Like the world was saying it was sorry. Sorry to take your home. Sorry to give it to the sea.
World don't get off that easy.