Frostysyrup

Thrust into an enigmatic world born from bloodshed; venture inside its complexities, dark-side, and always changing nature. At the center, a boy; brought up by an exiled mage, steps into a life of independence. A test to try and change his life for the better after witnessing what war can do to a person. The walk towards finding a stable living gets toppled as a unique magical element awakens. Using people, toying with emotions, doing anything and everything to get what he wants, this is the life of the next Death Reaper. Mostly emotionless, life continues as questions about his state of mind and being remains clouded behind many personas.

This isn’t the story of a single man, it’s the story of a whole world. Read as the world builds itself from the ground up. Conspiracies, evil, the dark side of humanity. In addition, tis the start of a new age; the birth of monsters – a story depicting the tales of the first heroes and demons to ever exist. 

The Wielder of Death Magic isn’t a typical fantasy. The heroes don’t summon forth power from heroes of old, here, the characters are the ones who make up the myths and legends for the next generation. Amidst the turmoil, Staxius, he lives on, watching and waiting as the world grows. 

P.S, I’m not that normal of a writer, my advice is to not expect anything going into this world. Forget everything, I personally, don’t care about rules and limitations and what can be considered to be the norm – the characters are given life, the world moves on its own; I’m just a spectator. No plot, nothing planned, all that you read is the product of the characters moving and acting individually. As opposed to me subjecting them with my emotions, the connection is reversed. They are the ones who dictate the story (Believe it or not, that's the way I write) A world, a story, characters, and the foolish author; we all evolve as one. On behalf of the people mentioned above, thanks for reading, I appreciate it all.
[Cover is copyrighted by Sxperimental]

The Wielder of Death Magic

Friday the 12th – the day began per the downpour of rain. A disturbance in the weather was reported late at night. The extent of the rainfall eluded even the weather reporter's mind.

Whatever happened didn't matter, suitcase in hand, backpack on the shoulder, and weapons on the table. An unbranded cap kept the hair from moving; a cheaply made long-sleeved dark-brown shirt, skinny jeans, and less than presentable shoes. For someone owning a lot of cash, caring about materialistic things could have been less of a worry.

"Igna?" the door stumbled with minor yelps.

"Anna!" opening the door, "-why are you moving about?" she fell into his arms.

"Don't," said she trying to stand, "-I felt normal a few minutes ago. Got dizzy, that's all."

The explanation went in one ear and out the other, "-congratulations."

"For what… oh, wait," for a brief second, her hands braced for an eventual fall, "-huh?"

Land o' Dream