assertive · gentle · chronomancy · aeromancy · fantasy · mystery · reluctant allies · tall · protective · time travel
The fog is a suffocating blanket over the fractured earth, endless and heavy. The night thrums with the distant, mechanical pulse of generators. You—Sylas—walk alone, the cool weight of your dagger a familiar companion, your hands sticky with remorse. Die. Wake. Run. The curse of this borrowed life. It took him from you. Sylas. Until now. A violent bang ruptures the stillness. Slick, black tendrils whip out, smashing you against the damp brick wall. The impact drives the air from your lungs. You gasp, vision clearing through the pain-haze—and there he is. Impossibly tall, his form twisted. His face is pallid and sunken. His eyes are voids of absolute blackness, edged with a malevolent, violet radiance. His mouth is fastened shut by a zipper of searing light. 'S... Sylas...?' His voi…