The War For The Pallid Throne

Leviathan Iranol Heart of the Great Devourer

In the blackest of places, when a deity was one, it craved a hunger so fierce that it could not be satiated. To embark upon perfection and find relief, it tore its stomach free when the stars were born. That pouch of unsatisfied gluttony scours the darkness still, consuming all in its path until nothing remains. Unlike the others, it is the only one to have forgotten its name. Blind to its sin and free of thought, it holds the abyss behind a thin curtain; a curtain that we call the Hunger; a curtain that we call the Great Devourer. Matter, space, and time are all consumed in equal measure. Not even light itself can escape once caught within the Hunger's grasp. Few can say for sure what lies beyond the darkness, but we will share this secret. Deep within its belly lies a locked gate, and beyond that is a jawless maw so massive it will swallow all of creation. Glory to he who has the key, for not even the Devourer can pick the lock. 

22

"You have one night," said the gatekeeper, flipping a coin in the air and stepping away from his post.

Felix wondered if the man recognized him. How long had it been since he last came to the dungeon cells of Bruma's capital? Nine years at least, and though he hadn't aged a day, the same couldn't be said of the prison guard. The man was all hunched now, and his whiskers were gray and eyes shallow with deep circles. Still, Felix never knew his name, but he recognized the scar across his forehead where a well-placed stone had struck.

Three hots and a cot.

Brown robes flowing down the dungeon corridor, Felix whistled, twirling a ring of keys in his right hand. There was quite a selection to choose from, or so they told him. So, what was on the menu this year? Perhaps a purse-snatcher?

He rounded on a cell, tapping a key on the metal bars. A scrawny man cowered in the corner, eyes flashing like a wild beast. Felix pushed his brow against the steel, and his head collapsed like jelly sliding through to the other side. His neck extended five feet from his body, and he hovered above the purse-snatcher like a snake. The man screamed, but no one could hear him.

The guards had already abandoned their posts.

He took a deep breath, drawing in the stench of sweat and urine. The thief covered his face as Felix licked the back of his hand. Slipping into the criminal's memories like a parasite, he could feel the cold bite of empty streets and the rush of wind at his back with a basket full of jewels.

"Get back here!" the guards screamed as he tripped over his foot and tumbled into a pile of snow.

Soon, rough hands pulled him from the ice, and the world spun like a top.

"That's him!" a woman shouted from behind.

Closing his eyes, Felix exhaled, returning to the dungeon cells. His head pulled back into his shoulders as he smacked his lips, stroking his chin.

Not enough salt.

Again, he began whistling as he continued his way down the halls. All the prisoners were awake now, their eyes as wide as saucers. They knew the truth better than anyone. Who would miss them when they were gone? That was the point, after all.

Halfway down the dungeon, Felix came upon a boy no older than fourteen. The child looked at him with defiant eyes, fingers gripping the cell bars tight, and hair wild like an old cat.

"Starting your career a bit early, aren't you, boy?" Felix asked, tapping the keys on the metal.

"Go to hell!" the kid shouted, spitting at his feet.