Story cover for Shadows of the Soul by Dermit
Shadows of the Soul
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    Parts 7
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    Time 1h 58m
  • WpView
    Reads 3,135
  • WpVote
    Votes 179
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 58m
Ongoing, First published Oct 05, 2012
Two centuries after the War of the Mad Gods, the world of Corda remains little more than a blackened husk. The sun no longer shines, the grass no longer grows. Only a single pocket of humanity remains, just one tiny circle of light huddled tight against the endless shadows all around. But now the magic holding back the darkness begins to waiver. The four Locks, the great wizards who hold the key to the prison of the gods, are being murdered one by one. Once more, the whispers of madness can be heard upon the wind--and once more the shadows of the gods begin to darken the souls of man.
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Shadow Scribe by Weebaku91
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Prologue: The Forgotten Tongue The sky above Ornea was painted in hues of crimson and gold, the final remnants of the sun fading behind towering mountains. A lone figure staggered through the ruins of an ancient temple, his breath ragged, his body battered. The inscriptions on the stone pillars glowed faintly, whispering secrets of a long-forgotten age. He traced his fingers over the intricate characters carved into the walls. 古之言,乃为天授 (Gǔ zhī yán, nǎi wéi tiān shòu) - "The ancient tongue is a gift from the heavens." The words pulsed with a strange warmth beneath his touch. The man, a scholar in his prime, had devoted his life to uncovering the truth behind the lost language of magic. He had believed that knowledge was power, but tonight, he understood its true meaning. A shadow loomed over him. From the darkness, a knight clad in black armor stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Foolish old man," he sneered. "You wasted your life chasing words no one remembers." The scholar coughed, blood staining his lips. "You don't understand... the system... it weakens us. True power lies in the words themselves." The knight's blade descended. As the scholar's vision blurred, his trembling hands traced the final character in the dust. A single word. A final spell. 唤醒 (Huàn xǐng) - "Awaken." The temple trembled. Light burst forth from the carvings, illuminating the forgotten script that had once shaped the world. The knight staggered back, shielding his eyes. And in that moment, a pulse of power surged through Ornea, stretching across empires, kingdoms, and battlefields. Far away, in a different time and place, a young man gasped as foreign symbols burned into his mind. The forgotten tongue had found a new speaker. And the world would never be the same again.
that one SWURD by xyltharion
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✦➳ Sins of the Virtues ➳✧ cover

Shadow Scribe

12 parts Ongoing

Prologue: The Forgotten Tongue The sky above Ornea was painted in hues of crimson and gold, the final remnants of the sun fading behind towering mountains. A lone figure staggered through the ruins of an ancient temple, his breath ragged, his body battered. The inscriptions on the stone pillars glowed faintly, whispering secrets of a long-forgotten age. He traced his fingers over the intricate characters carved into the walls. 古之言,乃为天授 (Gǔ zhī yán, nǎi wéi tiān shòu) - "The ancient tongue is a gift from the heavens." The words pulsed with a strange warmth beneath his touch. The man, a scholar in his prime, had devoted his life to uncovering the truth behind the lost language of magic. He had believed that knowledge was power, but tonight, he understood its true meaning. A shadow loomed over him. From the darkness, a knight clad in black armor stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Foolish old man," he sneered. "You wasted your life chasing words no one remembers." The scholar coughed, blood staining his lips. "You don't understand... the system... it weakens us. True power lies in the words themselves." The knight's blade descended. As the scholar's vision blurred, his trembling hands traced the final character in the dust. A single word. A final spell. 唤醒 (Huàn xǐng) - "Awaken." The temple trembled. Light burst forth from the carvings, illuminating the forgotten script that had once shaped the world. The knight staggered back, shielding his eyes. And in that moment, a pulse of power surged through Ornea, stretching across empires, kingdoms, and battlefields. Far away, in a different time and place, a young man gasped as foreign symbols burned into his mind. The forgotten tongue had found a new speaker. And the world would never be the same again.