Prologue
The smell of death hung in the air. Its acrid stench pervaded, sinister and sickening and raw enough to burn. Charred corpses littered the plain, every face twisted into an agonized rictus. The wind carried the lingering heat of the battle far and wide.
“You mean to go, then?” The amethyst-haired girl spoke amid a world of silent corpses.
“I do.” The man picked up the remains of a fallen flag as he spoke. His expression was inscrutable, concealed as it was behind a mask. “This is only the beginning.”
His inflectionless voice betrayed that he was male, but beyond that, it revealed nothing. It contained no joy, no anger, no sorrow, no amusement.
He surveyed the wreckage of the battle, steeped in death and hatred. Behind the mask, the dark-shrouded pupil of his right eye glinted gold.
“For a thousand years, time has stood still, but now it has begun to move again.”
He stepped forward, crushing foliage crusted with black blood beneath his feet. There was no hesitation in his stride. Nobody in this world could stop him. In this garden of charnel blossoms, no other survivors could exist.
“A great upheaval has come upon the world—the Time of Turning.”
He spoke to nobody in particular. The tremble in his voice might have been an unspoken plea to reach someone’s ears, but nobody was left to answer him.
“And its conclusion is already written.”
He raised a hand toward the heavens and crushed the sun in his fist.
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