Here’s a peek at the rough draft of a story I’m working on. Enjoy.
Shadow God of Necropolis
Necropolis, the City of the Dead, cast a long shadow on the kingdom of Ashmyr.
Its twisted spires rose towards the forever crimson sky, grey stone carved and grated from the vast mountain range that marked the realm’s border. A stark, organic city, a tiered sprawl of life born to tend the decay of existence, for its walls entombed the bones of the kingdom’s ancestors. Each day prayers were intoned for the departed, invoking the name of the god that slumbered within the heart of this black abyss carved from the mountains.
The Raven God. Deity of Death. Warden of Sins. Lord of Secrets.
One of the thirteen gods that ruled the cities of Ashmyr. The oldest god, the one fated to outlast the others, to be the last creature standing when the universe itself crumbled to dust. Perhaps this foreknowledge cast the shadow that followed him, or perhaps the fact he would come for all, in the end, set him apart. Whatever the reason, he was given a wide berth whenever he walked the city.
Today was such a day. He glided from his chamber, black robes trailing as snakes of onyx cloth, the grey velvet collar high against his pale neck, and his crown a scarlet flash of colour perched upon his dusky hair. Ten steps behind him walked his escorts, the eternal children, mute creatures devoid of any hue, existing only in alabaster and obedience. They carried woven baskets full of inscribed scrolls, the inked runes binding magic and power into the paper, doled out as favours to fortunate citizens. The benevolence of the god scrolls would grant each recipient what they needed the most: be it gold coins, livestock, extra food rations, tools, or sometimes, if Renshala was feeling generous, an extra day of life. But, today, there was something momentous in the baskets, the god could feel it in his bones.