Excerpt: The Birthing of Steeled Souls

Beauty. Power. To a man such as myself these were the most intoxicating gifts there were to be found in an entity. I watched the dancing, weaving, destructive tendrils of fire rose from the logs, seeming to quietly observe the dozen or so haggard people leaning over its warmth, savouring it, devouring it, aching for more and for it never to stop. Death was in each of their eyes, a cold, apathetic look that would stop powerful warriors. They would die, and they would die fighting. Not for result, and in the face of futility… our odds may be on losing. We do not care.

Every attempt at any task is met with success… or failure. The spinning arrow of chance may land on one or the other. But it is in the attempt that you discover the true value.
We are not computers. We are the humans. The world and its destructive forces shall fear us, even as we fall.

I am Inito Sugar. I am the dominant of one of the last human tribes in the wastes. The year… ah, it is hopeless to remember. It is unnecessary to recall the human concepts of years in a world that is no longer human. The knowledge and recklessness that was the strength of our ancient ancestors that was passed down to us in instinct will be our strength in this promised bliss of a future.