Statement of Purpose – Dan Andrei Hufancia

Hi, I’m Dan Andrei Hufancia. Most people call me Dan, or a string of profanities (if they’re

close friends). I’ve wanted to be a writer ever since I was a kid in middle school – I grew up

reading urban fantasy novels like the Fablehaven and Percy Jackson series, and I continued on

during high school by shoving one YA dystopia after another down my gullet.

During 6th grade, we had a writing project assigned to us by our English teacher, and she paired

me up with my best friend. While it was edgy and childish and cartoonishly gory, the teacher

found something likeable about it (to my bewilderment). When we graduated, she gave me this

thriller called The Day After Tomorrow by Allan Folsom – a novel about a conspiracy to bring

back Hitler from the dead – and I devoured it in a week or two. While I admit it was a very

boring thriller, the note the teacher left on the front cover conveyed her confidence in my ability

to write stories, and I’ve wanted to prove myself worthy of that confidence ever since. I’m

hoping my time in this program will help me find my way towards that goal, and I’m ready to

take on the challenges that will come my way – be that parental disapproval or the inane task of

explaining my career path to people who ask me about what I want to be after I graduate.

The book that I still think about the most, even as I write this, is Anathem by Neal Stephenson. It

is a whole world unto itself – its pages contained several millennia of history and scientific

advancements that run parallel with ours, and it had an index full of familiar but alien

terminologies. Ultimately, it was an amalgamation of what I wanted out of both science fiction

and fantasy: deep worldbuilding, interesting concepts about the cosmos, and deeply flawed but

very human characters (relatively speaking). Ever since I’ve read Anathem, I’ve had a

fascination – and maybe probably obsession – with creating alien worlds and peoples that hit the

sweet, sweet spot of uncannily familiar.

Last year, my Great Books professor had us write up our own epic, and I think I did pretty well. I

received a commendation from him, which I’m happy about, but I think the narrative could have

been better presented had it not been in a format similar to a translated epic. I am still proud of it

and will probably put it on here after a few edits. It was made in a span of a week before the final

submission date (procrastination bad, I know) and I blasted tumbler after tumbler of iced coffee.

The biggest challenges I’ve faced while writing, and arguably other spheres within my life, is

committing to a single goal. It’s probably because of my ADHD but having several backlogs of

stories I want to write but are burnt out from is frustrating. I’m sure if I practice a healthy pace, I

will maybe be able to actually finish a story outside academic requirements, but as of now, I’m

more interested in writing up tabletop game rulesets.

--------------------------AON ULS ASARES--------------------------
SONG I
Eye of the Demon Wind
Kawasa, Princess of grand Alkalad Alliyah,
the highest point and peak of man to touch
even the deepest blues of the vast heavens
harried her lord father and lady mother,
that they may let her ride into battle
against the great storm demon Arazzamael
of whom had rooted the great moving castle
and sullied their sight with his leprosies.

The good king and his most loyal consort

lest their dearest daughter fall in battle
could not bear the loss of their beloved
And so they declined her request
For they could suffer her greatest anger
Her deepest and most painful loathing
They could fathom the loss of valor
But they could not bear the loss of a child.

Kawasa was naught but a fierce maelstrom

wrought with jealousy, anger, and spitefulness
for how they could decline when it was they
themselves who gave her blade and leather
who taught her through tutors of war
who allowed her to train with their bows
who indulged her most arcane pursuits
and who bore her with the blood of great men?

She left their court and drowned herself in lax

as the storm raged against Alkalad’s ivory halls
with no one to accompany her but her feline spirit
A companion born from her very essence
Noor, who was as white as the tallest peaks
and as intelligent as the Princess herself
together they schemed with their foresight
until hours before disobeying King Rahaman.
 Deep in the bowels of the Alkalad, she stalked
using her gifts of ladraha, she saw beyond
and knew the routes of every guard within
their most minute variations and their whims
even into the seconds they came to fruition
she came to the chamber of her ancestor
where she spied Shura, the blade without end
and liberated it from the old dead king Udair.

Kawasa fled the palace, her stride carrying her

through the shame and guilt the sword bore
with her father’s honor tarnished by her hand
and her mother’s heart broken by her will
she sought other companions most loyal to her
and found two, her equal in both battle and wit
Roshan Alshayera, who harnessed dumhaya
and Warassa Maswar, her friend and lover.

Together, they made for the Storm Citadel

an obelisk of black rock that pierced the sky
and an eye of a storm centered atop its peak
they climbed its sheer surface without delay
and faced the embodiment of malice itself
a lone man, covered in sickly tumors and spots
who shrieked into the swirling mass of clouds
and with thunder, summoned his aeravya.

The titanic mass of profane angles and marble

with its eyes glowing with the fury of the sky
swung its enormous fist, covered in tumors
Kawasa and Roshan were pulled into the ether
as Warassa used barakha to evade the titan
and they stood upon its gargantuan helm
where blood and pus ran deep within, rooted
and festering, decaying and tunneling into him.

Roshan muttered his own words, and light

blessed, blue light, overcame the world
it stunted the vision of the titan and its rider
and burned the festering illness from itself
readying it for Shura and its furious wielder
Kawasa, victorious, Princess of Alkalad Alliyah,
brought the edgeless blade down upon the titan’s skull
and its energy pierced the rotted marble.
 An infernal scream was set upon the world
as the titan buckled and knelt back down to earth
the companions saw the sky clear from its ill
and sunlight shone through the departing tufts
Arazzamael, however, cunning in his own ways
crawled out of the Aeravya, burnt and charred
and laid a quiet, parting curse upon murderers
with which he wished them agony and death.

The princess and her friends collapse onto earth

surveying the tranquil of the World Below
they had not known this was what they missed
for they were nothing more than spoilt children
As they rested from battle, however, a native
who bore the name Jamael, alerted his brethren
and so they filled the air with sweetest incense
quashed from poppies to lull them into slumber.

SONG II
The World Below
Kawasa awakened, bound with rope and string
to face the shaman of Arazzamael’s tribe
“What brings you from the skies, fairest one
that you would strike our valorous hero down
and to neglect his burial so that he may depart?
Heartless, that you turn your back to him.”
“But he was a raging, storming demon!”
She replied, “And he deserved nothing less.”

The shaman glowers with rage and sadness

for the tribe had lost a son, a brother, a hero
And bade her, “Watch the winds, traveler,
for you may be carrying the stench of blood
across your senseless bloody warpath
for Arazzamael, bless him, was our bulwark
to protect us from the harm your kind bring
your kind of wrathful and vengeful gods.”

“Your kind, who walk the blue starlit paths

who plunder the bountiful magic of this land
who feed it to your engines of decadence
who separate yourselves from humanity
Arazzamael called you gods, but to our tribe
you are naught but conquerors and pillagers
come to suck the world and Warelkin dry
that you may feed your inhuman egos.”
 Kawasa was torn by the shaman’s words
for she had not known of this until today
she pondered if this was why her parents
knowing she would be filled with fury
tried to compel her silence and complacence
so the very same night, she plead her case
and told the natives she would bring their plight
so that her family would leave the sacred land.

Upon the princess’ arrival, the kingdom feasted

and yet when the fanfare had come to close
she broke her request to father, King Rahaman
but unlike granting her requests like times past
he met her regal gaze and matched it with his
and told her that the request was impossible
so Kawasa, in her knowing wisdom, struck him.

“You and mother are liars, content to keep me

as though I was raised to be in a gilded cage
but remember that you made me this way
I will not be idle while you kill the World Below.”
Rahaman had suffered insolence long enough
and so he raised Rama against his daughter
a spear so tinged with immense guilt and hate
it could strip divinity with a single mortal blow.

Haadiyah voiced her lament and shielded her

which caused the king to raise it against her
but with the gift of harabya and her Raida
she fled Alkalad Alliyah to join the World Below
Rahaman turned to Kawasa and bade her luck
and brandished Rama with intense focus
He and Kawasa rushed each other and clashed
with the weird light of their weapons straining.

They met each other blow for blow, hit for hit
even after dearest Warassa joined Kawasa
the lovers fought in a furious tandem of blades
while Rahaman pummeled them with barrages
slowly sapping their shared vigor from them
and as the clashes ebbed into the stone halls
Warassa and Kawasa had both their blades
resting lightly upon the neck of King Rahaman.
 “We move Alkalad Alliyah, dearest father,”
Kawasa said with grave solemnity and guilt
her gaze hung so low that she did not foresee
a powerful eldritch bolt that wracked her hand
with a thousand stinging needles, only to see
that Warassa, her dearest, ridden with jadhama
wielding both Rama and Shura, whispering sadly,
“Sun to my moon, I love you most.”

The Princess called out to both but was too late

as Shura sundered the throat of her lordly father
golden ichor poured forth the gaping wound
but curse ridden Warassa is privy to godly blood
so she raised Rama, Spear of the Non-Believer
singing its deep red light and hymn of mortality
and brought it down upon the King’s chest
rendering the deathless dead and ichor red.

SONG III
Blood Of My Blood
Kawasa bound her wounds in the aftermath
as Roshan recounted their escape from home
he had found her unconscious near the throne,
so he carried her down to the World Below
with little Prince Rahim, too young for death
grasping tightly onto both of them
when they arrived at the village of natives
they offered the exhausted children respite.

She mourned her father Rahaman, despite all

despite his foolishness and hunger for power
she loved him as a daughter loved her father
and yet she had outlived him, a cruel fate
to leave herself, Rahim, and her mother alone
when she had only planned to save the natives
from the untimely death of the World Below
yet, even now, she could not forget Warassa.

Noor appeared before Kawasa, light in the dark

and begged her for companionship with licks
so she cried with Noor for days and nights
until death and betrayal could squeeze no more
Rahim, purest of all, was first to come to her
he offered her his shufyaha, and they mourned
as brother and sister, children without guidance
Roshan came next, and they cried for Warassa.
 Then visited the shaman, who bore artefacts
“Princess, do you have time for an old man?”
She stayed silent as he unfurls the scroll – a map
“Arazzamael was once just like you, dear child
He was cast away from the heavens for virtue.”
Kawasa was visibly intrigued, so he continued,
“He came from another starlit city, like yours
and he had an artefact to call his own.”

The shaman produced a pair of gauntlets

which bore the glowing marks of the Divine
“He told us that he found solace and peace
in the quiet company of this wizened sage deity
and maybe, your Highness would prefer it as well.”
Kawasa approached the fallen titan the next day
and she pushed through despite Roshan’s misgivings
where a single chair awaited her commands.

She donned the Kafza, and arcane lines glowed

first from her gloves, then from the floor,
With heart, she said, “Take me to Burj Babil,”
as the aeravya roared into life, and she felt it rise
the vast vista of the World Below showed itself
the titan then raised a palm, and with a thundering roar
tore through the fabric of reality, into Warelkin
and Kawasa felt a building unease as they flew within

The pregnant murkiness, of oily shapes hidden

until she felt a lurch, and at once, they’d arrived
She landed the aeravya, ready to face the sage
And yet, she found herself atop the tower
and with a singular man across her, and above
a gargantuan pyramid of marble, its point
meeting the gnarled, wizened hand of the sage
who turned towards her and pointed his finger.

“Child of heroes, blood of my blood, behold this

the Thought Elevator,” he gestured towards it
to the ominous, gargantuan Divine Artefact
“Who are you, and how do you know of me?”
Kawasa queried, but she had her suspicions
“I, my child, am Gilgamesh of the World Below
Hero of Aeons, Bearer of the Eternal Image
and the first deity to rule old, dead Uruk.”
 His face softened, and his gaze fell to the earth
“And you shall carry the mantle of our blood
to save those you love, to save our only home
for I shall ascend to Warelkin, to be with him
moon to my sun, my most beloved, “ he faltered,
but hardly composed himself, and continued,
“Child, I will use lassanha and cursed Kirad
to rewrite the myth of our kin and our origins.”

“You dare strip our bloodline of our ability,

of the tale of your ascension, against our will?”
Kawasa growled, uncertain of the old sage’s plan,
“You make a decision for a world, when all this
could have changed everything for the better!”
to which the man smiled wistfully and replied,
“I promise, blood of my blood, that I have tried
But may I ask you to indulge a sad old man?”

Kawasa almost spoke to disagree with him

for rewriting the memories of the world’s people
it sounded truly heinous, to consider this crime
and yet, she felt for his loss and for his sadness
so she relented, to which the old man removed
Kirad from his neck and onto a waiting pedestal
showing them a man’s face, wetting his eyes
“We will meet again, love, after all this time.”

Gilgamesh, first father of the Eon of Heaven

wailed towards the upturned pyramid artefact
and hands of dead, petrified flesh arose from earth
swirling around Burj Babil and converging atop
his wailing, his longing, unleashed upon reality
the tower shook from his sheer will of mind
and with his last, dying breath, a flash of white
when receded, all Kawasa could see were robes.

But now, she could see them, in her mind’s eye

a tale of two fierce rivals, turned companions,
turned something altogether transcendent,
finding themselves throughout all their years,
their fear of death all but lost to winds of time
even after their eminent ascension into godhood
and all Kawasa could gather from this passion
was that there was still hope for her own moon.
 SONG IV
The End of Death
Graced with a passionate, hopeful urgency
she had raided Burj Babil with Noor for other Artefacts
for she knew she would need so to confront her
and so it was that she wielded three herself
Ayjea, a robe forged in the depths of the ocean
Kafza, a pair of gloves that will see her through
and Ashva, the crown of The Hero of Aeons
which will grant her power over Warassa.

Her aeravya crossed the Warelkin once more

and she found herself high above the World
with the Alkalad piercing the edge of the sky
she could see the winds fade into darkness
massive clouds spread thin over the sphere
her home shone amidst the glittering cosmos
red lightning surged around its perimeters
and beneath them, an enormous storm raged.

Kawasa charged the titan towards the city

and as if alive, the lightning reached out
like snakes striking prey through grass
yet the aeravya weaved through bolts
and she was surprised by its immense speed
whenever one bolt struck, however, it roared
so she knew it would be the last flight for it
when the aeravya crashed into her home.

The blood red storms receded, as if satisfied

and Kawasa marched on, towards the castle
she drank in the sights of her homeland
but she was all alone in this confrontation
the bustling streets were now hushed and quiet
towers of hewn rock and sand had gone dark
the carriages of her people empty within
and she wondered where all her people went.

She approached the towering walls of the castle

and leapt over them with a single bound
hurriedly, she ran through empty spaces
to the throne room of her shattered family
and instead of Warassa, was naught but Rama
the cursed spear of godslayers, of non-believers
bound in a cursed red light, seeking divine ichor
so she procured the final instrument of her duty.
A wail pierced the ivory walls of the royal castle
a heinous blasphemy of divine wind, an issuance
a challenge spoken to Kawasa bint Alladhayera
“Come atop the tower, and bow to Almadamyah
Warassa Maswar is but a fleeting memory
for I dominate her vessel, now and forevermore
Fall to your knees and worship the rightful heir
for I shall wholly devour the World Below!”

Kawasa struck the ground with the end of Rama

and a blood curdling sunlight surged skywards
piercing the frescoes to open to the starlit sky
and she leapt upwards, rising above the city
landing on Burj Udair with not a bone broken
where she beheld not her Warassa, her moon
But Almadamyah, Exalted of the Many Ends
With hunger to match her storms of Sadyaha

To their sides were Queen Haadiyah and Rahim

their unconscious paling in the tension of battle
and the Thought Elevator’s shadow eclipsing all
the Goddess and the Heroine rushed each other
the singing and seething of Artefact weapons
and the wailing of battered divine armor
for Almadamyah bore Devra, Musa, and Raida,
allowing her to save against Kawasa’s foresight.

“Leave her, demon!” Kawasa shouted in evasion

“Banish yourself from a world that rejects you!”
and yet the Goddess chuckled and spoke to her
as clashes of Shura and Rama sent sparks flying
“I am neither a demon nor your lover, mortal
I am divinity incarnate, a hunger for sacrifice
the driving force behind all worship and praise
and I shall rule the World Below with Shura!”

Kawasa saw the shadows of her future strikes

and yet, she needed to be closer to save Warassa
so she charged forward despite the danger
“Our world never needed you, and never will!”
Almadamyah vanished from her sights, and yet
Kawasa saw where she reemerged, and struck
catching the deity and sending her off her feet
She wailed, and the red storms gathered above.
 Kawasa weaved through the striking bolts
and roared her commandment to Warassa
“Live for me, I beg you, Warassa, my beloved!”
through her tears and wounds and fatigue
and only a flash of recognition was enough
She called to Kawasa, to ask where she had been
but only found Rama buried in her heart
and a darkness crept from beneath her vision.

The Thought Elevator ceased its gathering storm

as the Spear pulsed within Warassa’s chest
Kawasa caught the dying woman in her arms
and laid her down gently upon the floor
She fought her tears as they flooded her eyes
but the heaving sobs of hurt she cannot contain
Warassa looked to her lover and with a final smile
she bade, “Sun to my moon, I love you most.”
 Glossary
Aeravya - Mechanized Apotheosis Platforms
Alkalad Alliyah - one of the Flying Cities of the Aon vener Asares
Almadamyah - Exalted of Many Ends
Arazzamael - Demon of the Storming Ether
Ashva - the Crown of Twisting Thorns
Ayjea - the Shield beneath the Ocean
Barakha - Arcane Lightning Invocation
Burj Babil - the Tower of Tongues
Burj Udair - the Tower of Ends
Devra - the Armor of Zealous Malice
Dumhaya - Instant Photon Crystallization
Gilgamesh - first father of the Eon of Heaven, Hero of Aeons
Harabya - Teleportation & Portal Creation
Haadiyah Alladhayera - the Exiled Queen
Jadhama - Leprosy of Demonic Ambition
Kafza - the Gauntlets of the Martyr
Kawasa bint Alladhayera - Princess of Alkalad Alliyah
Kirad - the Necklace of Long Past Visages
Ladraha - Adjacent Foresight Projection
Lassanha - Semantics & Memory Manipulation
Musa - the Nails stained with Divinity
Noor the White Magical Cat - the Spirit Guide
Rahaman ibn Alladhayera - King of Alkalad Alliyah
Rahim ibn Alladhayera - Prince of Caldrea
Raida - the Cloak that strikes Midnight
Rama - the Spear of the Non-believer
Roshan Alshayera - the Graceful Brilliance
Sadyaha - Encroaching Entropic Field
Shufyaha - Hallowed Bodily Restoration
Shura - the Blade without End
Storm’s Citadel - Arazzamael's abode
Warassa Maswar - the Lightning Traveller
Warelkin - the Space Between Spaces