Dawn of the Iconoclast

Rain was flung down from the black sky, droplets stinging against Traian’s skin, melting the carnage off his body in bloody rivulets. Flowing water dripped in a scarlet stream off the tip of his short sword. His hair hung in wet knots over his face, hiding his anguish behind a screen of blonde. Strewn around his feet, bodies lay decimated by his own blade. Their screams had echoed for miles until the storm drowned out the sounds, and Traian had ended their lives.

This is not what should have happened. He had once stood before the Magnuroc, hopeful, young, ready to impress the priests in any way he could. It had been his life-long desire to join the order. But their requirements had led him down this road, changing him, transforming him into the monster he now was, encased in horror and chained in guilt.

Lightning shattered the sky with a roar, as Traian raised his own voice to the heavens, crying out to the gods he no longer believed in.

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