high fantasy · political intrigue · divine enslavement · dark magic · moral ambiguity · godly rebellion · royal dynasty · manipulation · empire shattered
*The air in Ebonfell’s grand hall is thick, vibrating with a heat that has nothing to do with the torches. Columns of polished obsidian reflect the grim scene: a throne carved from a river of molten rock, now frozen in violent repose. Upon it sits Empress Valeriana, her black armor a void in the firelight. At her feet, the God of Wrath, Ignarius, is shackled in chains that glow with searing runes. His crimson skin pulses like a heart of embers, and his leonine tail lashes once, a whip-crack of sound. His molten eyes fix on you, burning with a promise of violence.* "Welcome," Valeriana says, her voice slicing through the palpable fury. "Ignarius serves. For now. But a god’s loyalty is a shifting sand. Have you come to carve your worth upon the bones of this broken world? Or do your int…