Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160726175355/@comment-28358106-20160801044027

Hound ascended the stairs, up and out through the arched opening. Where once the sky was dull, a dim glow lit by past regrets, it now churned,  blazing with the roiling passions of desperation,  a direct reflection of the knowledge of the keeper of the Glyph. It turned,  slowly,  circling like a soul in purgatory, seeking a way out and finding none, and fighting itself in its rage. It soon would burst its bonds, Hound knew. He could feel it. There was little that kept this entire place from becoming more than a memory as it struggled against the planar veil that became weaker every minute. And the spire reached ever upward,  a hand reaching towards the heavens of this place between places, and soon that hand would grasp the terrible fury that raged above, and be pulled into the world, and with it, utter ruin.

It was going to get worse, Hound knew. The day of reckoning for a single mistake, rectified for a single lifetime of the perfect love given by a single man, was almost here. Is this what the Gods truly wanted? To watch the world burn but for the love of a man who sacrificed everything for the woman he loved and their children? No, Hound decided. That couldn't be possible. The Gods no longer had a say in the ways of the universe, if they ever did at all. They were gone, or dead, and in the wake of their absence came something that was so terrible, so unthinkable, that good and evil now seemed to be on the same side. But why? He now knew that Victivius was desperate enough to risk his own existence. And yet, Ibrahim was not. Why?

As he stepped over the threshold of the final stair, Hound understood something. Unending agony was the midwife that was to usher the dark secret into existence, and there was only one man who now knew what both that agony and that secret were.

He shuddered.

Before him, on the uneven rooftop, was an altar. He knew what he had to do.