1. |
The Sight of Her Kin
04:53
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2. |
Relics
02:50
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3. |
Passage
04:24
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4. |
The Sacking
05:58
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Get them! The humans fled through alleyways. The cave folk followed with their blades. The blood filled fissures in cobblestone. The clubs separated the flesh from bone. A maelstrom of violence persists. She paused when she saw the child's head dashed to the wall. She reeled. Turned around. Carnage manifest. Deafening sound. Fire and blood reflected in stunted eyes. A revelation of sin. In anguish she dropped to her knees. The assassin's blade was never seen. What have I done in this land of death and sun?
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5. |
Born Under Red Stars
05:35
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Here was once a peasant woman who went wandering through the ruins. Past crumbling statues and crooked spires erected before the dawn of man. Unholy carvings choked with moss. Inhuman tombs obscured by earth. Lilies fetched from tainted ground when the fireflies came out. By the time she reached her home, she was sick with child, with belly swollen. The child was born within a day and with his birth followed a plague. Hers was the first life that he took. The elders drowned him in the brook, but demon lungs choked water up and during that spring it learned to walk. Cattle died and rivers dried where he trekked. His footsteps were a trail of death. From rolling hills to mountain pass. From forest deep to cavern dark. From flowered fields to belching marsh. He slept in farmers barns that burned when lanterns simply overturned. He worked for copper where he could and then he'd leave the following morn. He made gold in a mining town. He learned to love but not for long. He dreamt of demons when he slept. By summer he learned to loathe himself.
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6. |
Amongst Skeletal Trees
03:57
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Exiled. Thrown out into the woods among haunted trees. Bone white mists rise. Frost clings to his sopping feet. On this first night alone he's huddled under gnarled oak trees. Specters descend and unknown horrors rustle in the weeds. Strange markings of demons found upon his skin. For this he'll spend his first night walking through endless mists. Behind haze of fog the pale moon peaks through fingers of skeletal trees. Behind me something breathes. Behind me something speaks! The cleft-lipped demons from my dreams with its milky, lidless, eyes. With it's crimson cherubic frame, whispers in demonic tongue “Half-blood. Half-child. I cannot let you live. Lie down in the leaves. Embrace this black abyss.” On this first night alone. Haunted.
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7. |
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Through sun baked plains they followed the bandits as the hot summer sun boiled them inside their leathers. A party of sell-swords who owe no allegiance except to the purse. No better than their bounty. They ride across sun bleached bones of soldiers fallen in wars for reasons unremembered. Their skin cracked and blistered. They ran out of water. The trail was lost. The heat made their brains swell. Ill omen wept from runes upon his skin. They blamed him for their misfortune. Days passed and one by one they died. Those left vowed to take his life. They beat and split his sunburned flesh. Demon blood kept his mortal half from death.
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8. |
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To vanish into the hills. Past the crags where lesser gods fear to tread. Climbing. Winter whips his wrinkled face. Upward. Spinning heights atop the peak. To the wormhole. It spirals down into the darkness where she sleeps, and at the base of this evil well, her distant spawn stands and thinks his last sane thought as he pulls his broadsword from its sheath and plunges into the wintry depths, never again to be seen. In free fall. The winter sky fades away. Enveloping blackness takes its place. Swallows all. For three days a sense of weight is no longer felt and aging bones begin to ache from the cold. The sound of beating wings surround the elder hybrid, who with his blade swings. Blood erupts to fill the air. A cloud of sickly mist down in the abyss. She wriggles and writhes. Rots the world from inside. He steps forth. One battle to fight. One redemption for a short painful life. Sleep under red stars.
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