R.A. Iscalon

 

  One moment, Han was standing in the woods. The next, his skin was being shredded to ribbons by an eldritch forest horror. Then, there was darkness: a black nothingness that blinded his eyes and deafened his mind - paralyzing him to a numb slumber. Nothing, not even the pain of his mortal wounds bothered him. But as quickly as that feeling…or lack of feeling began, it vanished - replaced by a memory. The sweet scent of fresh-baked crems, jungle air, and waterfalls crawled through his open window and filled his empty stomach. Smacking his lips and rubbing his eyes, Han looked up to see several faded painted stars coating a mahogany ceiling that he and his mother had created years ago during the summer solstice - in his childhood bedroom. "Boys! Breakfast!" Ara, his mother, said from the living room. Quickly recognizing the sweet aroma of his favorite dessert and breakfast treats, Han erupted from his bed, throwing blankets and pillows aside before making his way downstairs. H...

  Taenith’s words may have momentarily killed the noise - the insults, lectures, and disappointed speeches - that normally settled there. That is, until the burning logs’ snaps became a chorus of cackles, and the serpentine embers: faces of his peers - all laughing at him.           “ You will never be one of us. Never,” they cackled in harmony.          “ Never,” a new voice boomed. And soon, erupting from the cacophonous flames was the stoic form of his adoptive father.            “Father…I-I,” Grizzel choked, folding his hands together below his trembling chin. Even with his eyes closed, he struggled to ignore the presence before him. The flames stung his flesh, boiling his retinas with a cursed reminder that he would never be alone.          “My son.”        ...

Chapter 9 - Genesis The shouts of the apostles were practically on their backs as they rushed into the city. But thanks to a few of Ohen’s magical firewalls, they managed to lose them long enough to make their way to the guild district, a large encirclement of towers surrounding a central garden plaza. But to Tex and Sham’s dismay, the renowned guild spires were not what they once were. Once bustling with members from different organizations across the world, the plaza was now vacant; the towers unkempt and abandoned. Tex was particularly frustrated when they came up to the Algadrian Order’s local headquarters. Its door, once a brilliant ornamental design of a golden dragon head, was caked in a massive red “X.” Beneath it was a wrinkled parchment of piss-yellow paper that read: To those whom this concerns: The Algadrian Order and all sympathizers of the demihuman scourge will be executed on sight. Those who ignore this decree will suffer the wrath of Lunas herself. “Bastards,” Tex grit...