Hey hey, guys, gals, and in between pals! Today, I bring you the third Wildcard, Myth of Adaptation. This is a myth from a completely different project I have in the works based in my post-apocalyptic fantasy world, Adapted. It includes some simple poetry. 

Hope you enjoy the show!

~Chance

Our Ancestors survived by sheer force of will in the Wastes, determined to overcome the dangers they faced every day. Years of wandering the toxic Wastes mutated our Ancestors, twisting their bodies, minds, and spirits and granting them uncontrollable powers. There were many deaths, most horrific in nature. The unlucky ones became part of the dangers in the Wastes, transforming into walking nightmares that hunted their people relentlessly.

One day, several of our Ancestors from all throughout the Wastes had a vision of an opal gateway surrounded in bismuth that fractaled from a stone valley filled with blood, orange sparks dancing across the thick crimson liquid as the moon rose over the southern horizon. A message was carved in the opal.

Meet the moon to the south,

Three days in, three nights out.

The powers within,

Consumes the body without,

Greet death in the valley,

Your survival is in doubt.

No one could figure out what the message meant, but they were compelled to find the bismuth gateway. Many believed it would hold the key to end their suffering and free them from their cursed powers. Many did not even make it to the stone valley, succumbing to the dangers of the Wastes. The near-impossible journey was abandoned by those too fearful of death to continue.

The cowardly attempted to go through a mine.

But the opal entranced them.

The clever found hidden passages.

But the jagged bismuth within skewered them.

The daring climbed the cliffs to avoid the danger.

But the blustering wind whipped them.

The foolish traveled into the stone valley alone.

But the unstable stones above crushed them.

The bold tried to use brute force.

But the vicious monsters murdered them.

Only six travelers reached the gateway. They chose to work together and lean on their unique power. They made a blood pact that either they all would leave or they all would go down together. For three days and two nights, they made their way through the stone valley. They dodged the falling stones, slipped through the hidden passages, resisted the call of the sparkling opal, balanced along the ledges, and overcame the monsters.

By the time they reached the gateway, they watched as the moon crested the southern horizon. The world evaporated around them and they found themselves in the Between, a shadowy realm no one had ever returned from. The friends felt as though their flesh was being torn from their bones. Their agonized screams were drowned out by a thunderous voice.

Opal that stuns and Bismuth that grows,

Stone that grounds and Wind that blows,

Blood that binds and Sparks that glow,

Friendship to trust and Adaptation to bestow.

When they awoke, they had gained the ability to completely control their unique powers that they once thought were a curse. Determined to grant this control to any who were suffering under the weight of their power, they led small groups through their ordeal.

Today, we call this ordeal the Rite of Adaptation.