The shadow cast by the procession stretched long and skeletal across the glittering plains as the sun began its ascent. It was a sun that felt alien to Towa, a pale imitation of the stellar fury he had channeled. He tuned out the rhythmic, mournful tread of the warriors behind him, the creak of the ...

The silence that followed was heavier than any mountain. Imani’s gaze followed her son's trembling finger. Her eyes, the same sharp, intelligent eyes that had guided councils and stared down warlords, widened. Across the glittering, glassed plain, she saw him. Zarek. Her husband. The Khan. A still ...

The shadow of Supremacy had been a malevolent force, oozing with darkness and intent to dominate all of Glomora and then the world. It had lurked in the folds of the Nighthour, feeding on the fears and doubts of the world, whispering into the minds of its inhabitants, amping up the Saiko, infesting ...

The roar was not merely sound. It was a physical law rewritten, a seismic shockwave of pure will that blasted across Glomora’s fractured plains. The unnatural twilight sky shivered, its grey-purple veil torn by the silvery luminescence of the titanic lion. Mountains in the distance shed rock in ...

The air itself was a wound, torn and bleeding shadow. On the fractured plains of Glomora, beneath a sky choked with unnatural twilight, Towa and his father stood against a nightmare wearing the face of a beloved. Khel—or the thing that was Khel—was no longer the gentle soul Towa had loved. He was ...

The battered walls of the grand Aseerian palace groaned around them, a testament to a battle that had already begun to tear reality asunder. Under the gaze of the Vescrutia's twin suns, casting long, funereal shadows, three figures stood in a triangle of fate. Towa was on his knees, his breath ...

“Khel,” Towa breathed, the name a shard of glass in his throat. It was not a shout of fury, but a whisper of profound, soul-deep agony. The chaos in the city, the shrieks of the dying, the bodies of his kin lying in streets slick with blood, the looming threat of the Nighthour—all of it faded to a ...

The sun of Vescrutia was a benevolent god, and the Aseerian people were its favoured children. Upon the endless, golden expanse of the Sunlit Plains, a river of life flowed. The Great Migration was a symphony of thundering hooves, rustling wings, and the deep, resonant calls of a thousand different ...

The heavy stone door hissed shut behind them, the ancient runes on its surface dimming as the locking mechanism engaged. The air outside the chamber, though still cool with the pre-dawn chill, was alive with the low thrum of anticipation. Torches cast a warm, dancing light across the grand courtyard ...

The dawn began to stretch thin and golden across the plains of Aseer, a delicate balm after the brief, brisk twilight. The night had been littered with the uneasiness of all that had occurred, a collective breath held against the lingering fears of what the foreboding of the past might wrought in ...