These floods would be upon us within five years.
We had thus to prepare.
The flooding came. The rains came. The tidal waves came. By then we had fled to an area of the land outside of the middle earth basin. I recall the endless night, the endless rain. The misery and the sorrow which lasted for hundreds of years. When the flood water abated and the rains ceased, finally, the middle earth basin was gone. It had become replaced by a tiny ocean. All evidence of our culture was sunk without trace. Our temples, our homes - all lost. But we remained. Our legacy lived on.
Our new home comprised a fertile land bounded by this new sea and cut through the middle by a series of river tributaries. For about a century we settled and re-established our healing sanctuary. This would prove to be our final resting place. Thus, our roles as healers returned. But peace did not remain for very long. Our group and the subsequent peoples fought for power. Our live became enmeshed with power struggles.
It was thus down to us and the other surviving bands of the children to spread the truth. So began the war between good and evil; black and white. Belial began the colonisation of the surface of the earth. Creating civilisations built on the foundations of its lies and distortions. Peoples rule by fear and tyrannical power. Our cultures were formed in splinter groups all over the globe built on firm foundations of truth and unity. Sadly, we knew from the start we were in a war we could not win.
Our civilisations became corrupt too soon as they followed the mind set of the Belialians. Mankind was now too obsessed with the temptations of the manifest plane to be saved.
Taken from The Chronicles Of Ezra by Matthew James
