Lord_Damocles

The Old Gods are gone. Lost and Forgotten, their honor shattered and their kingdoms broken by treachery. 

The Peace of the Myriad Heavens has been severed. And from the ashes of war and chaos, the Twin Towers of Babel have been created as a beacon of hope. 

Can Altair, a child born of the Old Gods whose name has long since been forgotten, survive, or will he be cast into the Nine Hells?

***
"So..." Arsene continued, enjoying his child's flush expression. "I've got a few things to teach you. What I'm about to give you is some peak wisdom. Think of it as my Ten Commandments: One, never trust a bitch with red hair. Trust me on this. Two, the pull-out game is not a real thing. She will get pregnant. Three—"

"F-Father…"

" —Never get yourself more than one wife. It sounds fun. It is fun. But it's truly a nightmare. You better be writing this stuff down. This is some grade-A wisdom right here. Four.

"...Please stop talking…" The Prince pleaded. 

"Shhhhh. Just let this happen. Four…Bro's before hoes isn't a thing. The hoes come first. Remember, Booty is more important than Wa— "

"STOP!!!!!"

Shadow of the Abyss

Altair had awakened on the fifth day, his mind distorted, burdened by an intense hyperfocus sense of awareness of his surroundings. The pupils of his eyes throbbed with meaning as a vale of knowing shrouded his being.

He could sense the uneven heat of the sun warming Yarwin, turning the low-pressure air into wind. He could feel the light particles, the photons around him, surrounding him, entering through the pores.

He groaned, clutching his head, following the wave of confusion that scattered memories throughout his Astral Sea.

For a brief moment that felt like hours, if not days, the boy groaned, pulling himself together. Sweat bled through his clothing as he stabilized his mind. Yet despite the calm refining the body, the pain continued to lash at his mind.

The Rotten Vale I