LightReader

Children of the Waning Tide

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In the reek of gunpowder and the deafening roar of gears, who dares to rebuild faith upon a world in ashes? Through the fractured chasm of memory and deceit, who will carve out the truth? I tear myself from chaos, eyes snapping open within a prison forged of flesh and faith: Screams echo from the laboratory, shadowed by the Ecclesiarchy's hollow hymns and the skeletal remains of clandestine rites. Tidal energies surge at my fingertips; a mechanical heart throbs, spitting crimson fire; a demonic bloodline gnaws at the precipice of sanity... Civilization festers beneath a sanctimonious shroud, the masses mere ants scurrying under colossal towers. Some gorge themselves on the corpse of a bygone Golden Age, others peddle the shattered dreams of children. But I, gripping a rusted blade, I will rip open the belly of this world's deceit— This is a revolution sparked by one who remembers nothing, an epic of mortal flesh challenging divine might.
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