The Human Soulstone
Zac awoke with a start, feeling a hand rest on his shoulder. He sat bolt upright with a yelp, his heart pounding, instantly awake – and he saw none other than the drunk cup bearer Roald standing next to his bed, looking alarmed.
“Whoa, I apologize,” Roald said as Zac stared at him with wide, wild eyes. “Didn’t you know you rested so uneasily, ya know?”
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Zac blurted. “Or – or my house?”
Roald didn’t even seem to hear, almost looking through him. “We need your help, my Lord,” he went on, halfway
Chapter III - Wulfgard: Echoes of the Mage-Emperor
The Return of the Mage-Emperor
Zacynthos twitched. Very slowly, he began to wake, feeling as if his own consciousness was seeping back into his body.
He sat up, dropping the black stone and clutching at his chest with both hands. It felt strange, hollow at first, almost too full the next, but everything returned to normal in the blink of an eye…
Except his head felt like it was going to explode.
Zac slowly reached up to grip his skull, leaning forward and taking a few more breaths before he let out a low moan. He’d never had a headache like this in his life, not even after letting himself get talked into drinking contests with
Best Left Buried
Zac slept fairly decently for the few brief hours he had before sunrise. When the first rays of sunlight crept into his room, he groaned and pulled a pillow up over his head, wondering if he could steal a few more hours… But he finally relented and tossed the pillow aside, getting to his feet and stretching his long limbs.
He acted out his usual routine as he always did, and he even wrote a letter to his sister, which he had meant to do last night, but the book lingered in his mind. What could the message mean? Was it important, or would he just get treated like a fool for reporting it, like the last time he’d f
Deep in the halls under the great castle of Artorius, one lowly clerk rifled through his projects. By order of King Rikard I, he was to copy all these assorted scrolls and tomes in as timely a manner as possible. Knowledge was to be preserved, and since he could actually read and write – a skill so rare it was almost a commodity in itself – he was the one about to do the preserving. It was a dull job, all things considered, but he didn’t mind it… not too much.
He certainly didn’t mind it to the point that he wanted to try and pass off the job to someone else.
“Jon, this is a bad idea,̶
Whispers in the Dark
Voices. Low and hushed, they drifted through the dust and shadows of the underground chamber. Tucked away deep inside the catacombs below the temple of Kronos, there rested an ancient tomb – the tomb of one of the first men to aid in the settlement of Artorius, a descendant of one of the lowly commoners who first dared to don the void iron armor of the Imperial Inquisition at a time when it was needed most. It was a resting place none would dare defile.
Or so they thought.
Two men approached the tomb, one from the north tunnel, the other from the south. Both wore dark hoods and cloaks, as if to protect them from