Imperial Literature

This is the third story in the Ravendark Saga – click here for the second one.

We fly north.

The Realm of Chaos passes beneath me in a blur as I am borne north on angel’s wings, Rai’elle’s arms tight around me, holding me closer than I ever thought she would again. I can sense something in her… is it love? Fear? Envy? Some delicious mix of the three? Whatever it is, its taste delights me.

My eyes leave her for a few moments and watch the Blessed Realm flying by in a dark rush of beating wings. At first it could pass for the northern steppes, the only difference being the telltale red sky, but as we pass on the vegetation becomes more and more animated, the ground darkens, the mountains become impossibly vast… the landscape becomes more and more unreal.

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This is the second story in the Ravendark Saga – click here for the first one.

Even after my return from madness to what passes for reality, I still feel my journey across the Wastes was the worst part. Alone, wounded, not entirely sane, I was taken from my followers – assuming that any of them but Nethrak were my followers – and carried deep into the Realm of Chaos itself.

On angel’s wings, through the endless tormented storm of Chaos, with the panoramic polar Realm spread out below me. The night becomes a blur of speed, wings beating about me, and I feel my eyes shut with exhaustion and pain. For the first time in what feels like days, I sleep.

And when I do, the nightmare returns.

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