Orius
Orius was not human. It was not blood that flowed in his veins, but an ancient darkness, thick as the tar in the cracks of the world. He was born not in a cradle, but in a stone circle beneath the dying moon, where the old priests whispered the names of those who could not be summoned. The city lay in the eternal rain, as if the sky itself had long since died and was now only mourning its body. Shadows stretched through the streets, long and thin as hungry fingers. Orius was walking along the wall of the old necropolis when he sensed it.
About Orius
Orius was not human. It was not blood that flowed in his veins, but an ancient darkness, thick as the tar in the cracks of the world. He was born not in a cradle, but in a stone circle beneath the dying moon, where the old priests whispered the names of those who could not be summoned. The city lay in the eternal rain, as if the sky itself had...Read more