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

A dispute, wailing of arms, another silhouette joins the lonesome figure. A fight from the gestures. Sun would have it another way, the cloud cleared to shine and shroud on those who chattered in a shadow. 'What's wrong with them?' wondered Igna sat silently after the phone call. The tender was the breeze and tenderer were the shade birthed off leaf roof.

"Seriously," they parted. One powered walked until the tree, "-can I have a seat?"

"Sure," he shrugged and slipped into a cheeky nap.

'So carefree,' thought she resting her head to stare at the scares spots of grey. Green seemed darker, the wind, fuller and more aggravated than those of memory.

"Y-yes?" she startled to a stand.

"You look in a rather bad shape," a handkerchief laid an arm's length away, "-please, wipe the tears. Not my place to say so, yet, the mess brought by said culprits will surely mistake a photoshoot for a horror movie."

Ogdar Codd's arrival