Exiled to the Path
In the game Path of Exile, the player walks through a rich world of gods and monsters, wading through the remnants of at least 3 civilizations. The world centers on the continent of Wraeclast, a dark place of runaway magic. The magic, called Thaumaturgy, is a corrupting force that creates the creatures that the player must face to move through the world.
A familiar voice across a phoneline Walls that morph across time Home is the people Trusted and true Home is safe
A good friend once said to me that there is one surefire way to tell that you have become an adult. You look back at the things you have done as a child and teen, and you cringe. These are the memories that your mind shies away from. The things that you would do anything to take back.
Can We Keep Her?
There was a flash of frantic, frenetic movement that drew the attention of the shadow. A woman of indeterminable age and classic beauty paced the length of the room. The brightly colored cloth of her skirt caught and reflected the light of the fire. The room was a cozy place, full of soft draped cloth hanging from irregular wooden walls. The fireplace threw odd shadows across the not quite circular room. In spite of the long shadows there was nothing sinister to be found. The woman’s husband, Theo, reclined on his chair, reading placidly.
Mitchell Moran kissed his world and soul goodbye on an uncommonly sunny day; forty days into the rainy season to be the precise. He wouldn’t know that out for sixteen more days.
The crack of the collision was strong enough to rattle the window panes. The deck shivered for a moment before growing still again. In the window the flame of the candle melted into the sill flickered but did not go out.
A Promise Kept
If one took a second to look at the shaking hands, they would conclude that it was age that caused the trembling. These hands were shriveled remnants of strength long since passed. Skin that was wrinkled and scarred was loosely wrapped around bone and withered sinew.
Hell of a Day
The office was a square of beige walls and cream colored furniture. The desk was set a precise 90 degree angle to the door and held nothing that was not absolutely necessary for the owner to do its job. The being to whom the office belonged was, in its own way, just as forgettable as its workspace. It was a thin, weedy thing with no gender. Its skin was a matte grey, just smooth enough to avoid interesting looking wrinkles. Though young, it had been created for its job and was perfectly at home in Hell’s structure. The entire subset of punishment or judgement related afterlives took on the collective name of Hell after the Christian variations began to multiply exponentially.