Something Ancient Awakens
Time is a river, and the pattern threatens to break
Time is a river, and the pattern threatens to break
"I am just a man," I said to the wind, to the waves, to whatever gods might still be listening. A prayer or a plea or perhaps just a final truth before I let the rocks below decide my fate.
In ancient Rome, a lictor discovers that immortality is not a gift but a duty. What begins as service to kings becomes servitude to time itself.
The ashes of the witch still clung beneath his fingernails when the world unmade itself. Now he walks, forever marked, forever necessary, forever alone.
Soon, the veil will part. The chronicles will begin. And you will witness what happens when eternity has a conscience.
