02-16-2025, 01:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-19-2025, 12:50 PM by Sinister. Edited 1 time in total.)
The valley stretched before him, a labyrinth of jagged stone and shifting mist. Each step the Grand Sin took echoed through the hollow expanse, the sound swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence that loomed overhead like a specter.
This place had been waiting.
The spires rose like the fangs of a beast long dead but never buried, their obsidian surfaces slick with moisture from the heavy fog that curled around them. He ran a paw along one of the towering formations, feeling the cold bite of the stone, the weight of centuries pressing down upon it. There was power in this land—not in the way of sprawling kingdoms or gilded thrones, but something deeper, something ancient. Something untouched. That now belonged to him.
The wind howled through the rock formations, a sound that was neither natural nor welcoming. It twisted and carried whispers that did not belong to him, voices lost in time, their language broken and unintelligible. The valley had seen ruin before. It had swallowed the dreams of others. But it would not consume him. It would only be reborn again into his vision. Just like those who came to call the valley their home too.
He moved forward, stepping onto a narrow path that wound between two towering spires, their sharpened peaks reaching hungrily toward the sky. The ground beneath him was uneven, cracked, as if the very earth had once tried to rip itself apart. Pools of stagnant water collected in the lower recesses, their dark surfaces disturbed only by unseen movements beneath. Nothing here was truly still.
A great plateau emerged before him, an outcropping of stone that overlooked the valley in its entirety. He climbed it with deliberate steps, feeling the weight of his presence settle into the land. When he reached the top, he stood motionless, surveying the expanse below.
This place was more than a graveyard of forgotten things. It was a foundation. A sanctuary for those who had no place in the world above. A fortress carved not by hands, but by the will of time itself. Here, the covenant would take root, grow, and stretch its influence beyond these cursed spires.
The Grand Sin closed his eyes, inhaling the sharp, cold air.
“You will belong to us now. To me. For eternity. And I shall never let you become mere ruins again,” he murmured to the valley, to the mist, to the echoes of what once was.
And as if in answer, the wind howled again—not in defiance, but in acceptance.
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