Shaele

Darkness. The ultimate ruler, the true One-Above-All. Everything starts from it, and everything returns to it eventually. People say that in your final moments, darkness seeps in your very existence, engulfs your whole being. They say it’s an incredibly relaxing feeling that takes you on your journey to your afterlife. They say that in the very darkness, the ‘nothingness’ your weary soul will finally be able to rest and relax. This brings up some very philosophical and existential questions. Do you even exist?

Follow the epic journey of Aiden, the last primal, a unique and ancient race as he finds his place in a strange, new world, filled with threats and violence.

-----

UPDATE: A supportive reader has created a Discord Server. Here's the link if you would like to reach out to me and/or join the community:

http://discord.link/Shaele

-----

If you would like to support me and leave me a personalized message, you can buy me a 'coffee' at Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/shaele

-----

This story (and the world itself) is something I started writing and creating 15 years ago, while I was telling stories with my friends in our regular D&D sessions. The world is a hand-crafted fantasy world, filled with history and lore that we created over the course of years. While I may be new to the writing scene, I will do my very best to bring you an enjoyable experience. 

Hope you enjoy the journey just as much as I enjoyed creating it.

The Last Primal

Just as the blades were about to make contact with the fair skin of the fiery, red-haired maiden, a sudden force yanked the cursed assailant away, flinging her back in the air several meters before her body crashed into the ground with violent force.

Her body strained, she was swiftly incapacitated through the sheer force of the mysterious power that whisked her away.

Focused on her own battle and similar desire to prove to everyone -as well as to herself-, the remaining sister was lost in her feverish craze. Strike after strike, slash after slash she too was slowly losing her senses as her mind was slowly lost to the sweet whispers of corruption so did any semblance of technique or skill betrayed her assaults.

Slowly, but surely, the girl's attacks were reduced to nothing more than swaying swings of a mad man (or girl). She struck, relentlessly from both sides with no particular aim behind her slashes.

Chapter 501 - Bad Omen