#grimgentleman

Something must have gone wrong. The delicate, ever-shifting balance of aether, of light and dark, the tenuous thread upon which the worlds teeter... Something must have broken it. No one could know where it happened, or how, or by whose hand. At this point, it was too late to wonder. Too late to reverse the tides. The sky was already bright and stagnant, the lands still bleached and barren -- and the Warrior transformed.

Maybe 'transformed' was too sweet a word. Too gentle, too clinical. It didn't capture the bones cracking or the skin ripping. Or the screaming. Gods, the screaming. How it hung in the air like fog as every scrap of light within the Warrior painstakingly tore its way out. And how it suddenly stopped, replaced with naught but sterile silence as something new arose in their place.

A thing with too many eyes, too many limbs, flesh pallid, body edged with glittering gold. It towered over the other sin eaters, dwarfing even the most formidable of the Lightwardens, in stature and power alike. Power leaked like blood from its ragged seams. Puddles of liquid light splattered the ground as it took its first stuttering steps in its new frame. All who looked upon it knew it was not a mere sin eater, but a newborn god. A harbinger of a hideous doom, terrible and beautiful in the same vacant moment.