EerieGhost

In the fractured kingdoms of Eldyra, where deserts bleed molten ore and fungal forests whisper forgotten names, three outcasts are bound by a lie older than the stars.

Kael, a guilt-ridden blacksmith, wields a hammer that burns with the soul of a traitorous knight. Lira, an outcast herbalist, dreams of a goddess’s death—and wakes with bloody hands. Tyrus, a thief with no past, carries daggers that devour his memories to feed a love he can’t recall.

When Voidspawn—shapeshifting demons born from a murdered goddess’s rage—swarm their homes, the trio is branded as heretics and forced to flee. Their only hope lies in the Celestial Anchors, ancient relics said to halt the apocalyptic Dusk Eclipse. But as they uncover the truth, they realize the anchors are not tools of salvation… but locks.

A thousand years ago, the goddess Nyrisia sacrificed herself to trap a cosmic parasite that feeds on mortal suffering. The “curse” she left behind was a shield, not a punishment. Now, her reincarnation (Lira) is unraveling, Tyrus’s lost love is the parasite’s avatar, and Kael’s hammer demands he kill the only friend he’s ever had.

As kingdoms burn and allies betray them, the three must choose: reignite Nyrisia’s war and doom the world to eternal hunger, or shatter the anchors and unleash the parasite’s full wrath. But the greatest threat lies within—Lira’s goddess is waking, Tyrus’s dagger is a key, and Kael’s hammer remembers how to kill a god.

ASHES OF THE SUNDERED STAR

The Silence After the Storm

The world woke to ash and whispers.

Lira floated in the Void, her body a ghostly echo of flesh and starlight. The shard's remnants pulsed where her heart should beat, its edges fraying like torn thread. Around her, the parasite's carcass loomed—a leviathan of shadow and teeth, its body dissolving into motes of anti-light. But its voice lingered, a poison in her veins.

"You cannot kill a god, Sundered Star… only delay the inevitable."

She tried to scream. No sound came.

Solaris | The Order's Gambit

Kael stood atop the Order of Ember's reconstructed fortress, Soulbrand's weight a leaden truth against his back. The hammer had not spoken since the Eclipse Gate fell, but its silence was worse than any taunt. Below, the knights drilled with fanatic precision, their chants carving the air like blades.

"Weakness is death. Doubt is decay."

Commander Jarel approached, his burn scars hidden beneath a gilded mask. "The scouts have returned. The Voidspawn nests near Emberfall are active again."

"And?" Jarel's laugh was a dry rasp. "You are the Order's chosen blade, Vyrion. Act like it."

The title curdled in Kael's gut. They'd forced it upon him after the gate's collapse, after Lira's fall, after Tyrus vanished into the undercity's rot. A puppet warlord for their holy war.

"Send the third battalion," Kael said. "Burn the nests."

Jarel's mask tilted. "And the prisoners?"

Kael turned. The dungeon's stench wafted up—rusted iron, void-ichor, despair. "What prisoners?"

"The hybrids. The ones that look… human."

The memory struck: Lira shattering the glass tank, the creature with her eyes whispering "Sister."

Umbralis | The Shadow's Whisper

The undercity had birthed a new god.

Tyrus crouched in the corpse of the Obsidian Spire, his claw—now more parasite than limb—digging into the flesh of a dead cultist. The rebel Voidspawn watched from the shadows, their mutations hidden beneath cloaks stitched with stolen hope.

"She's changing," Goran growled, his crystalline knuckles glinting in the fungal glow.

Tyrus didn't look up. "Aren't we all?"

Rissa sat cross-legged in the corner, her shadow stretched across the wall. It no longer mirrored Nyrisia's regal poise—it had grown teeth, jagged and hungry, its form flickering between woman and wolf.

"You fear me," the shadow said, its voice Rissa's and not.

Tyrus tossed the cultist's heart into the fire. "I fear bad wine and clingy ex-lovers. You're just… creative."

Goran's blade pressed against his throat. "Fix her."

Tyrus grinned, all teeth. "Can't fix what's not broken."

The Void | Lira's Prison

Lira drifted through the carcass of the parasite, its bones like mountains of obsidian. The shard's remnants hummed in her chest, a dissonant melody that tugged her toward a flicker of light—a figure, chained to a throne of stars.

The goddess's head lifted, her eyes voids. "You should not have come."

"I didn't have a choice," Lira said.

Nyrisia's chains rattled. "There is always a choice. You chose to live. They chose to fear you."

The vision shifted: Kael standing over the hybrids' pyre, his face a mask of hollow resolve. Tyrus bargaining with rebels in the undercity's bowels. Rissa's shadow devouring a cultist whole.

"They need you," Nyrisia whispered. "But you need me."

Lira reached for the chains. "What are you?"

The Eclipse's Shadow

In the silence between realms, its remnants stirred—a shard of teeth, a whisper of shadow. It coiled around Lira's ankles, gentle as a lover.

"Let me show you true power."

The Hollow Throne