Ascendence

The sky's are torn by the trumpets of war the sound brings back dark memories of a time before the peace. The last vestiges of hope snuffed out like a fools dream set upon cracked glass

Only one man can stand the might of the Gods. But does he dare stand against his own belief or does he stand among the believers who bow before the fallen

Death is a welcome embrace, for the weak.
War is coming
Blood will fall
And heaven will fall from grace