19 parts Ongoing MatureThe world is a lie.
Beneath the fractured skies of Drakeland, where diesel fumes choke the air and magnetic leviathans hum with stolen power, a truth festers in the shadows. The earth below, they say, is a wasteland-a graveyard of ash and radiation. But the edge whispers otherwise.
A nameless narrator, broken and bleeding, scrawls their final testament in the dark. They speak of floating continents, of ships the size of empires, and of an unholy pact forged in the blood of the forgotten. The dream, they say, is not a dream. It is a warning. A beacon. A call from something ancient, something that breathes in the void between stars.
The Rats, a revolutionary group in the underbelly of this rotting world, their sigil a skeletal hand clutching a rat's skull, a candle's flame flickering against the dark. They seek the truth, guided by cryptic messages woven into hymns, tapestries, and the whispers of the dead from a Saint who may not be a Saint. A Ghost who may not be a Ghost.
But beware, for the Crown watches. The Emperor, ageless and unyielding, smiles as his dogs hunt the desperate. The King, a pig in gilded robes, feasts on the suffering of the weak. And the children-vanish into the night, their screams swallowed by the machinery of progress.
This is not a story of heroes. It is a chronicle of the damned, of those who claw at the edges of a crumbling world, seeking answers they may not survive to find. The dream is coming. The eyes are watching. And when the veil falls, you will wish you had never awakened.
Prokolev is a tale of cosmic dread and crumbling empires, where the line between savior and monster blurs, and the truth is a weapon sharper than any blade.
Do you dare to remember?
