Hell is full.
That's been true for as long as I can remember. Those three words bring back stories of the first Rising that were etched into my mind as a child--people quickly took to burning bodies after that. The time in which the dead stayed dead is long behind us.
From my studies of our Queendom's history, I know the change was sudden; almost as if a lever was pulled. Mobs broke down the doors of sorcerers and painted the walls with their blood. Necromancy was a fledgling school of magic primarily used for healing; however, the masses neither knew nor cared. When the mages were no more and the dead kept rising, righteous anger turned to paralyzing dread.
Now, the departed return at dusk. Towns and cities refuse to let anyone in after sundown. Pillars of smoke blot the landscape year-round. And I'm rotting in a jail cell in the dead of winter.
YOU ARE READING
Hell Is Full
FantasiMy attempt at writing a "soulslike novel." WIP. Inspired primarily by Roadwarden and the Souls series. Will try to update weekly.
