the scar

After so long, time still seemed like a trick of the mind. How much had passed, how little? Did it really matter? The sun rose and then fell again, but the desert was forever in this place. He grasped at it, and as he raised his hand the sand slid through his fingers. It fell faster as his grip...

Some fucking festival. Why was it that, without fail, Rahma kept having to go under-fucking-ground? Lady Medja had been making some big moves as of late. After the last failed attempt at breaching the fathomless trench that was the Scar of Drakormir, the Smiter of Ragash had decided to take...

There was a day when giants cast shadows over cities and mountains... And he remembered that day still as if it were yesterday. It still played in his dreams not every night, but frequently, reminding him of what could be. Reminding him that demons do exists, and that even a god can become one...