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398 pages, ebook
Published September 8, 2022
Thunder crashes, and with it comes the explosion.
So loud, so powerful, it rattles half of the mountain with it, incinerating every living human left inside, leaving even their bones as piles of ash.
Rain pours down, the roof now reduced to rubble, scattered for miles.
The wind howls, scattering the human remains to the air, carrying them off into the night.
It’s pitch dark now. No torches. No starlight. No ghost fire.
The only illumination comes from occasional crashes of lightning—showing a scene from a child’s nightmare.
A temple in ruins. Streaked with blood, slowly being washed away by the downpour. A god, sacrificed upon his own altar. Before him, his last believer.
There’s a lone figure in the middle of the scene. A tall, dark haired youth—dressed in black.
The rain doesn’t touch him. It doesn’t dare.
Boots click softly against the flagstones, wet, cracked—stained by the blood of the deity they were hewn to worship.
The figure kneels before the fallen god. A deviation from teachings—but the youth isn’t kneeling to worship.
He is kneeling in penance.
When he clasps his hands in prayer, head bowed—for the first time in many years, he prays for something in particular.
Strength.
Strength at any cost. Strength in any form.
Strength to destroy his enemies. Strength to avenge his god.
Strength to protect him.
Even if his god doesn’t know why he isn’t resting in peace. Even if he doesn't know why he hasn’t gone.
Even if he doesn’t know that this servant is protecting him.
For him, this man will survive anything. For him, he will become invincible.
The rain pounds as the thunder roars.
The youth prays for strength. But there is another prayer, one that is always on his lips, rattling against his teeth, repeating with every pulse of a heart that no longer beats.
He prays to never Rest In Peace.
Not so different from that day, in a very different kind of parade, wearing a different mask. The screaming of thousands, and—
A boy, dropping into his arms like a falling star.