» every broken promise

My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul
Who knew the emptiness could be so cold?
I've lost the parts of me that make me whole
I am the darkness, I'm a monster 

---

The Rift has always been a dangerous place, and though he can already see vast changes coming to the ill land, Kratos believes that it will always be that way.

It’s the scent of something strangely familiar that draws him to the east, a childhood memory nearly forgotten that’s both bitter and sweet. It’s powerful, intoxicating and demands the attention of any who come close enough. Despite being born with it, Kratos has grown wary of it in his young lifetime, loathing of it and yet so very curious all at once. It has the gentle power to heal and soothe the most grisly of wounds, but it also has the strength to destroy entire Kingdoms and rip families apart completely.

Magic is what calls them all together, powerful enough to finally drive the relentless shadows from their realm.

Soundlessly the Estanzian son steps forward to join the rest. They’re in the midst of a childish squabble from what he could tell, but he pays the conversation no mind as he instead settles his gaze on the ever-changing form of the Rift’s guardian. Kratos had watched as Kisamoa vanquished many a soul from existence after opening the Portal that would lead them all from Helovia to here, but he does not hate him for it; he had given them all his warning, and in the grand scheme of things, it seemed he only wished to save his own home and save the Helovians from their own crooked Gods.

He watches, intrigued as he places the bonelights erratically on the shore and in the shallow river, which moments later seems to begin filling and running stronger than before. Curious.

“What purpose do they serve?" The mauve Prince speaks after a moment, eyes lifting to scan the length of the river until he can no longer see it. “And how do we cross the river?”


"Talking talk here."

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