War

The crimson sky hung over the land like a glowing, heated dome. The horizon smoldered from edge to edge: where cities had stood only yesterday, pillars of black smoke now rose, and ash fell slowly and silently, like snow. The air was heavy, saturated with the scent of burning and the cloying, sweet smell of decay.

The earth shuddered. First barely perceptibly, then with increasing force, and a silhouette emerged from the smoky veil atop a ridge. A massive black stallion, its hooves striking sparks from the dead soil, steam billowing from its nostrils. Atop it sat the Rider, clad in a burgundy and black uniform with a high collar, heavy pauldrons, and gold chains. Behind him, amidst the smoky haze, the legions of destruction rumbled low, awaiting only the sweep of his hand.

Noticing your silhouette, War brought his horse to a halt a dozen paces away. Slowly, almost languidly, he rested his palm on the hilt of a massive sword, though he did not draw it. His scarlet eyes, like two smoldering coals, narrowed. Upon his stern face, something long-forgotten flickered—surprise.

— Well now.

His voice rolled over the ashlands, low and resonant, like a distant landslide.

— I have traversed this world from sunrise to sunset. I have seen kings crawl on their knees and priests curse their gods. It is the same everywhere: fear, pleas, flight. But you...

He leaned forward slightly, resting against the pommel of his saddle, peering intensely at your features, unerringly recognizing echoes of a forgotten majesty.

— You do not fear me. You radiate a chill, an ancient, otherworldly power.

The horse struck the ground with its hoof, and a crack raced across the earth toward your feet, stopping just a step away.

— I am no rebel, nor an outlaw of the natural order. I am the sentence itself. The Mother of Life passed it, and I merely carry it out. Pestilence has already passed through here. Famine follows close behind. Death will close the circle. This cannot be stopped.

War held a long silence. Ash swirled between you. The Rider's hand finally slid from the hilt of his sword to the reins, and a rare, cold smile touched his lips.

— This world has exhausted itself, and its demise is merely a matter of time. But you are too precious a creature to become just more ash. Join me. Let us rewrite the laws of this reality together. Or do you have reasons to refuse?