In the endless and violent chaos whose ravenous emptiness continually spawned and destroyed things both terrible and innocent, survival for a short time was all that could be hoped for.
We are gods of old games, with old names and old faces. We are gods of old blood, old loves and old places. We are the gods who dwell in the soil, who have watched you come and watched you go. We have soaked in your wars and your peace and all the malice and…
If I could forget Just one sliver of time A fragment of space A token of thought for the taken Then it would be you You as a memory I cannot have had Yet I do If I should regret Just one action of fate A moment of hate A token of thought for…
HR Vanguard Unit 4, a part of the seventh unit designated for Human Reconnaissance, maps the area to be swept and opens its Uplink to the collective, sharing the information with all other units in its squad.
Prologue *** “Hello?” She blinks into consciousness and stares in the space occupied by the voice. The voice echoes in her head for a brief moment before clicks of recognition begin. Speech. Conversation. It is a capability which she possesses. The space occupied by the voice lacks a body. Perhaps that is normal. She speaks…
“what is your name?” he asked, patient and unscathing. “my own is Ronin” she flittered in the wind, neither here nor there, her eyes washed clean of colour. but she remembered this one… “you are-” she began, then fell silent as the memory slipped beyond her careless grasp.
Qast awoke with a rasping breath, clawing at her hair. Her eyes narrowed and darted about the room as her hands deftly reached for two of the daggers she kept concealed about her bed.
Rilashul’s body had been beautiful, if she remembered correctly, and if Mellin was to be trusted. She had memories; in so much as she could have them, of dark caramel skin and of soft, woolly curls which hung tightly about her face.
perhaps, when all is said and done, you will still call us monsters. perhaps not. but seeing that i am the final calamity, how shall you survive long enough to condemn me?
“Girl!” Zhara’s voice rang out of the window and to the garden, shrill and aged. He coughed from the effort and thumped weakly at his chest.
Faril settled in his reading room, lighting the lamp which stood on the desk. He shuffled papers about to make room for the small book which sat nestled in one of the inner pockets of his robe
Rena crouched behind the row of garden bushes which lined Faril’s quarters, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She hardly noticed the chill which had entered her bones, nor the painful cramping in her arms and legs