There is a cycle of tales that begins long, long ago, when the human gods decreed that all their mortal children shall know sorrow, loss, and defeat in the course of the lives they were given.
Now, it came to pass that one particular man had run nearly his entire alloted span, and he had never know defeat; for him, the only defeat was surrender. It soon followed that the king of the human gods--this particular man surrendered and died.
But among the wise the tale of this dead man does not end in death.
This man lay unquiet in the grave; the earth's embrace could not hold him. His corpse shifted and writhed, and moaned with the memory of life.
One day a wanderer sought a path out from a dark and mazy wood. This wanderer followed a wind form beyond the world, and that wind led him to his unquiet grave. The wanderer looked upon the grave and spoke to the corpse within it saying: Dig deeper and find a darker tomb.
For the wanderer was the crooked knight, and he had learned that only by decending can one rise.
View User's Journal
Cronicles of one of the Fallen
An account from one of the few who flew with the grace of God,
Challenged the sun, and was burned from the Heavens
 |
a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.
It was the wind from the dark angels wings.