Aside from the slow and steady hoof-falls of the large draft horses against the ancient stone road, or the continuous creaking of the nearly-as-ancient caravan wagon’s wheels, Horace was sure he couldn’t hear anything at all. In the fading autumn light, all he could see for miles around were the silhouettes of enormous petrified trees, having stood dead now for centuries but still refusing to fall. Their bark had turned an unnatural and oddly lustrous black, one that seemed almost liquid as it glistened in whatever light happened to gleam off its surface. They seemed more like geysers of oil that had burst forth from the Earth only to freeze in place before a single drop could fall back to…

Chapter 4: The Cry for Fairness   The violent vibrations of the wails caused a portion of the wall to crumble, revealing a passage hidden behind it. The violet viscous oozed into the neighboring area as a breeze of air hit him with a refreshing touch. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder to continue his journey through the labyrinth. He lurched through the sludge to the next passage that was a skywalk. There were eight windows along both sides with an iron rod gate on the other end.   Requiem walked onto the middle of the skywalk taking in the scenery. He peered over each side of the skywalk to see if the tower had moved. The sun was setting over…

Chapter 3: The One Who Understands All Requiem looked down at his right hand carrying the claymore with thorned rosary binding them together. He let his blade drop next to him to hang freely by the rosary so he may use both hands to climb the vine. He dug his fingers into the vine making it bleed, and started climbing. His claymore dangled from the rosary causing it to shred his forearm while the claymore etched patterns into his legs as it swayed back and forth. Requiem climbed through the darkness covered in blood for what felt like an eternity. He climbed until the face of the iron mask clanked against a stone ceiling where the vine suddenly ended.   Requiem…

Chapter 2: One Hound’s Meal is Another Man’s Treasure He scanned the chamber for another door, but fell short. All while the holes in his chest and stomach began to glow with the healing white light. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder, then made his way to the door he had entered through seeing that it was the only way out of the chamber. The white light turned into his entrails, then muscles and finally his scarred skin until he was whole again. Pride’s blades pushed out from his back and side to the floor. Requiem pushed open the door to see another void. Without hesitation, he stepped through into a decrepit hallway with the door disappearing behind him…

Chapter 1: The Purity of Corruption A naked holy man stood knee deep in snow on frostbitten legs in front of a tower he did not believe existed. It was a tower of legend that was forever moving that sat atop of a snowy mountain scape for the time being, and was said to grant a wish to whoever reached the top. A gust of icy wind cut into his skin scar covered skin like the many blades that did the same during his holy crusade reminding him of his duty. The duty now halted by the seven window stone tower he had only heard from those he had slain. The holy man’s true name had faded from the world…

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite. For the past year or two – I’m honestly not sure how long it’s been, actually – I’ve been under contract for an otherworldly masked Lord who calls himself Ignazio di Incognauta. He’s not a demon, exactly. He’s closer to Fae, I think, but I don’t fully understand what he is. I never sought him out. He came to me. I asked him how he even knew who I was, and he slapped me across the face for my insolence. I still signed up though. That’s how desperate I was.…

Chapter 1 Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement – one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home. ‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. ‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It’s quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’ I could tell from her look that she was hoping I’d ask her for details. ‘So what did you find out?’ I asked. Emily proceeded to launch into a lengthy…

It was the morning after I had said my vows in the shield hall of the Twilight Gate when I first doubted my decision to join the Asundrian Order. A strange notion, I know. Who ever heard of a doubting Sentinel? After all, there are only two types of people in Asunder: the honorable few with unwavering dedication to the cause, and those who gambled away the prerogative to question their choices; no in-between. In truth, there are probably far more stories like mine – bland, told a thousand times before, overshadowed by more compelling tales of honor, sacrifice, and redemption. I have little of these things to offer, but my recount may have merit for those who follow in…

We had been sailing for months after departing from the port of Whitehill, and had left even the most remote hunting grounds of the whalers behind weeks ago. The charts put us northeast of the Forsaken Islands, but their bleak shores were not our destination. Our route led us farther north than most men had ever sailed, across the desolate black waters of the Northern Sea. What a fool the captain of the ship we pursued must have been to believe the unhinged claims of the priestess. There was no warm summer sea hidden by ice, no uncharted passage, no prophesied land for our people to settle. We were alone out here, so far from any known shores that not…

There were six of us when we left the trading post and traveled in the western direction, following the river in the shadow of the Inech mountains. The market we had visited was one of the few places in the world where a ragtag group like us did not stand out from the crowd. During our travels, our leader often drew quite the attention, yet here in Nassudrall the hulking shaman was barely worth a fleeting glance to most. Ch’Goa we called him; the closest approximation our tongues could produce when trying to say his true name. He stood almost as tall as the natives even though the years had bent his back, his leathery skin was brindled with age…

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite. For the past year or two – I’m honestly not sure how long it’s been, actually – I’ve been under contract for an otherworldly masked Lord who calls himself Ignazio di Incognauta. He’s not a demon, exactly. He’s closer to Fae, I think, but I don’t fully understand what he is. I never sought him out. He came to me. I asked him how he even knew who I was, and he slapped me across the face for my insolence. I still signed up though. That’s how desperate I was.…

We had been sailing for months after departing from the port of Whitehill, and had left even the most remote hunting grounds of the whalers behind weeks ago. The charts put us northeast of the Forsaken Islands, but their bleak shores were not our destination. Our route led us farther north than most men had ever sailed, across the desolate black waters of the Northern Sea. What a fool the captain of the ship we pursued must have been to believe the unhinged claims of the priestess. There was no warm summer sea hidden by ice, no uncharted passage, no prophesied land for our people to settle. We were alone out here, so far from any known shores that not…

There were six of us when we left the trading post and traveled in the western direction, following the river in the shadow of the Inech mountains. The market we had visited was one of the few places in the world where a ragtag group like us did not stand out from the crowd. During our travels, our leader often drew quite the attention, yet here in Nassudrall the hulking shaman was barely worth a fleeting glance to most. Ch’Goa we called him; the closest approximation our tongues could produce when trying to say his true name. He stood almost as tall as the natives even though the years had bent his back, his leathery skin was brindled with age…

Chapter 2: One Hound’s Meal is Another Man’s Treasure He scanned the chamber for another door, but fell short. All while the holes in his chest and stomach began to glow with the healing white light. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder, then made his way to the door he had entered through seeing that it was the only way out of the chamber. The white light turned into his entrails, then muscles and finally his scarred skin until he was whole again. Pride’s blades pushed out from his back and side to the floor. Requiem pushed open the door to see another void. Without hesitation, he stepped through into a decrepit hallway with the door disappearing behind him…

It was the morning after I had said my vows in the shield hall of the Twilight Gate when I first doubted my decision to join the Asundrian Order. A strange notion, I know. Who ever heard of a doubting Sentinel? After all, there are only two types of people in Asunder: the honorable few with unwavering dedication to the cause, and those who gambled away the prerogative to question their choices; no in-between. In truth, there are probably far more stories like mine – bland, told a thousand times before, overshadowed by more compelling tales of honor, sacrifice, and redemption. I have little of these things to offer, but my recount may have merit for those who follow in…

Chapter 1: The Purity of Corruption A naked holy man stood knee deep in snow on frostbitten legs in front of a tower he did not believe existed. It was a tower of legend that was forever moving that sat atop of a snowy mountain scape for the time being, and was said to grant a wish to whoever reached the top. A gust of icy wind cut into his skin scar covered skin like the many blades that did the same during his holy crusade reminding him of his duty. The duty now halted by the seven window stone tower he had only heard from those he had slain. The holy man’s true name had faded from the world…

Chapter 1 Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement – one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home. ‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. ‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It’s quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’ I could tell from her look that she was hoping I’d ask her for details. ‘So what did you find out?’ I asked. Emily proceeded to launch into a lengthy…

Chapter 3: The One Who Understands All Requiem looked down at his right hand carrying the claymore with thorned rosary binding them together. He let his blade drop next to him to hang freely by the rosary so he may use both hands to climb the vine. He dug his fingers into the vine making it bleed, and started climbing. His claymore dangled from the rosary causing it to shred his forearm while the claymore etched patterns into his legs as it swayed back and forth. Requiem climbed through the darkness covered in blood for what felt like an eternity. He climbed until the face of the iron mask clanked against a stone ceiling where the vine suddenly ended.   Requiem…

Chapter 4: The Cry for Fairness   The violent vibrations of the wails caused a portion of the wall to crumble, revealing a passage hidden behind it. The violet viscous oozed into the neighboring area as a breeze of air hit him with a refreshing touch. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder to continue his journey through the labyrinth. He lurched through the sludge to the next passage that was a skywalk. There were eight windows along both sides with an iron rod gate on the other end.   Requiem walked onto the middle of the skywalk taking in the scenery. He peered over each side of the skywalk to see if the tower had moved. The sun was setting over…

I remember that night all too vividly, as if the memories were etched into my very soul. It was a cold, moonless evening, the kind that sends shivers down your spine and makes you wish for the warmth and safety of home. But little did I know that home would offer no sanctuary from the horrors that awaited me. We were gathered around the campfire, a group of friends seeking refuge from the darkness that enveloped the forest like a shroud. The flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows upon the trees that loomed ominously in the distance. It was then that I first heard it, a faint rustling in the underbrush that sent a chill down my spine. At…

I remember that night all too vividly, as if the memories were etched into my very soul. It was a cold, moonless evening, the kind that sends shivers down your spine and makes you wish for the warmth and safety of home. But little did I know that home would offer no sanctuary from the horrors that awaited me. We were gathered around the campfire, a group of friends seeking refuge from the darkness that enveloped the forest like a shroud. The flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows upon the trees that loomed ominously in the distance. It was then that I first heard it, a faint rustling in the underbrush that sent a chill down my spine. At…

There were six of us when we left the trading post and traveled in the western direction, following the river in the shadow of the Inech mountains. The market we had visited was one of the few places in the world where a ragtag group like us did not stand out from the crowd. During our travels, our leader often drew quite the attention, yet here in Nassudrall the hulking shaman was barely worth a fleeting glance to most. Ch’Goa we called him; the closest approximation our tongues could produce when trying to say his true name. He stood almost as tall as the natives even though the years had bent his back, his leathery skin was brindled with age…

Chapter 1: The Arrival My name is Emily Parker, and I’ve always been drawn to the mysteries of the supernatural. So, when rumors of a haunted mansion hidden deep in the woods reached my ears, I couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity. Little did I know that my quest for answers would lead me into the heart of darkness itself. The forest around me was alive with the sounds of the night, a cacophony of rustling leaves and chirping insects that seemed to whisper secrets in the darkness. The moon hung low in the sky, its feeble light struggling to penetrate the thick canopy of trees that surrounded me. The mansion, a looming silhouette against the night sky, seemed to…

We had been sailing for months after departing from the port of Whitehill, and had left even the most remote hunting grounds of the whalers behind weeks ago. The charts put us northeast of the Forsaken Islands, but their bleak shores were not our destination. Our route led us farther north than most men had ever sailed, across the desolate black waters of the Northern Sea. What a fool the captain of the ship we pursued must have been to believe the unhinged claims of the priestess. There was no warm summer sea hidden by ice, no uncharted passage, no prophesied land for our people to settle. We were alone out here, so far from any known shores that not…

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite. For the past year or two – I’m honestly not sure how long it’s been, actually – I’ve been under contract for an otherworldly masked Lord who calls himself Ignazio di Incognauta. He’s not a demon, exactly. He’s closer to Fae, I think, but I don’t fully understand what he is. I never sought him out. He came to me. I asked him how he even knew who I was, and he slapped me across the face for my insolence. I still signed up though. That’s how desperate I was.…

It was the morning after I had said my vows in the shield hall of the Twilight Gate when I first doubted my decision to join the Asundrian Order. A strange notion, I know. Who ever heard of a doubting Sentinel? After all, there are only two types of people in Asunder: the honorable few with unwavering dedication to the cause, and those who gambled away the prerogative to question their choices; no in-between. In truth, there are probably far more stories like mine – bland, told a thousand times before, overshadowed by more compelling tales of honor, sacrifice, and redemption. I have little of these things to offer, but my recount may have merit for those who follow in…

Chapter 1 Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement – one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home. ‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. ‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It’s quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’ I could tell from her look that she was hoping I’d ask her for details. ‘So what did you find out?’ I asked. Emily proceeded to launch into a lengthy…

Chapter 1: The Purity of Corruption A naked holy man stood knee deep in snow on frostbitten legs in front of a tower he did not believe existed. It was a tower of legend that was forever moving that sat atop of a snowy mountain scape for the time being, and was said to grant a wish to whoever reached the top. A gust of icy wind cut into his skin scar covered skin like the many blades that did the same during his holy crusade reminding him of his duty. The duty now halted by the seven window stone tower he had only heard from those he had slain. The holy man’s true name had faded from the world…

Chapter 2: One Hound’s Meal is Another Man’s Treasure He scanned the chamber for another door, but fell short. All while the holes in his chest and stomach began to glow with the healing white light. Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder, then made his way to the door he had entered through seeing that it was the only way out of the chamber. The white light turned into his entrails, then muscles and finally his scarred skin until he was whole again. Pride’s blades pushed out from his back and side to the floor. Requiem pushed open the door to see another void. Without hesitation, he stepped through into a decrepit hallway with the door disappearing behind him…

Chapter 3: The One Who Understands All Requiem looked down at his right hand carrying the claymore with thorned rosary binding them together. He let his blade drop next to him to hang freely by the rosary so he may use both hands to climb the vine. He dug his fingers into the vine making it bleed, and started climbing. His claymore dangled from the rosary causing it to shred his forearm while the claymore etched patterns into his legs as it swayed back and forth. Requiem climbed through the darkness covered in blood for what felt like an eternity. He climbed until the face of the iron mask clanked against a stone ceiling where the vine suddenly ended.   Requiem…