Nicht jede Fantasy erzählt von Helden.

Manche erzählt vom Verhängnis.

✦

Kosmische Dunkelheit.

Das Nahen der Übermacht.

Verhängnis über der Schöpfung.

✦

Mit *Der Aufstieg Thions* beginnt ein mythopoetisches Fantasy-Epos über Schöpfung, Macht, Niedergang und die späte Erkenntnis einer Übermacht, die stets gegenwärtig war.

Band I der Arachlumen-Saga. (https://amzn.eu/d/08EQ3eOL)

✦

#Fantasy
#DarkFantasy
#Mythologie
#Literatur
#Weltenbau
#Worldbuilding
#Bücher
#Lesen

A second ago, he saw something impossible.

Then he looked again.

Nothing.

Just the balcony.
The city.
The dog chewing his treat like nothing had happened.

👉 Sometimes the scariest thing is when the world goes back to normal.

#UnboundRealm #FantasyBooks #SciFiFantasy #DarkFantasy #IndieAuthor #

https://kentwayne.com/2026/05/30/the-world-was-normal-again/

The truth is out there. Today, we're in search of it (and the paranormal, and maybe some UFOs while we're at it).

#horror #sciencefiction #fantasy #darkfantasy #paranormal #supernatural

#PhantastikPrompts

30. Wie exakt konzipierst du eine Geschichte? Sind schon vor Beginn alle Szenen durchgeplant – und hältst du dich dann auch daran?

Ich konzipiere den groben Plot. Meist kenne ich Anfang und Ende und finde es dann zum Haare raufen die Mitte zu schreiben. Weil irgendwie müssen meine Figuren ja noch dahin kommen, wo ich sie haben will. 😅

#phantastik #fantasy #darkfantasy
#literatur #bookstodon #autorenleben

The woman with green eyes did not give Tirak answers.

She gave him a warning.

“Once you begin, you cannot stop.”

Then she vanished.

The truth had already chosen him.

#fantasy #darkfantasy #epicfantasy #news

Ils sont des mercenaires appartenant autrefois aux ennemis, au mal.
Ils ont perdu la guerre.

Aujourd'hui, ils tentent de survivre dans un monde qui ne veut plus d'eux.

Notre #actualplay de Chien de Guerre est en ligne

https://youtu.be/t-j6ZyYUxe0

#jdr #darkfantasy

Beware the Ills: Part 45

I wish I could understand what I’m seeing. I cannot even describe it completely, like this image wasn’t real, and plucked from some faraway dream.

Surreal must be the word, surreal.

The city isn’t how I remember it, even in my vaguest memories. It spreads out beneath the grey peaks of the surrounding mountains. The houses are stern sheets of brick squares, which have curved metal tops for roofs. The pewter glows green and brown, like the trunks of the trees in the frontier. The houses are stacked ridiculously tight together, barely any spare space is between them. Holding the buildings together are lumps of pink rock, which stick out randomly and obscenely from the walls. The diamonds, which are round, fleshy and untouched in their natural state. The houses vary in height and width. Some are as tall as the grandest trees, and others I would have to bow my head to get inside. The light coming from the square windows bleeds a lazy orange. It sneaks out in amber beams but gets eaten by the sunlight above.

The light makes it seem peaceful, but I know it’s a fabrication.

The streets twist every able direction in cobblestone trails. They bend and crawl among the buildings in no discernible order. How odd, it’s like there was no reason for the roads whatsoever. There are bridges on the roads, which curl across the streams trickling in from the river. The bloody river from before. White flowers line the water’s edge in clusters. They glow against the cold flowing black.

I’ve never known flowers like that before. I wonder how they got them.

The scene of the city isn’t blatantly ideal, the people are being slaughtered. As if irony were a sound, an explosion rocks the air and trembles the city’s frames. I’m running. A roof falls on my right as I sprint along. It crumples a metal din across the tight city walls. People are screaming everywhere. Two bodies are steaming as I cross one of the bridges. Two men sit in a bloody pile. They’re wearing thin, shredded clothes, and are full of arrows. Their features are mangled by the stalks of quivering black.

They’re not soldiers.

I would love to enjoy the detail of this place; after all, I’ve been protecting it for so long. Sadly, I can’t waste one minute on meaningful reflection.

It’s always an endless war.

The people of the city are retreating towards the mountains behind the metropolis. There are hidden paths in their bellies. They can take them into the forest and hide until the outlanders have their fill of wanton destruction.

That’s what I would do in this situation.

I hear people screaming. That’s good. Screaming means they’re alive and fighting for life. I’m passing row after row of these diamond houses. The streets are riddled with bloody children, men, and women. I hear the crossbows rattling against the mountains behind the city.

The requiem makes me bite my tongue.

I round a path up the hill towards the mountain’s belly. The city empties of corpses the closer I get to the mountains. It looks like the citizens outran the second cloud of arrows, but certainly not the first. The mountains are towering up in uneven rows of grey points. The city becomes small and confined behind me as I run. I’m almost beyond its edge.

I remember it being so much bigger.

There’s an open space where the city ends and the mountains begin, a narrow valley with flat and rocky ground. That’s my goal. People are running out of houses near me, they mob the streets and run in every direction on these narrow stone paths. Some even jump into the streams, floating on pieces of broken wood. I’m knocking the people over as I run. My lungs and legs sting ravenously. I can’t be tired at such a pivotal moment. I’m looking forward to it. 

The stone-etched road has grown too tight and convoluted with survivors. I can knock them aside, but that wastes time. They’re so weak in their staggers and sprints. Some are covered in blood. Some have had their thin dark clothing hacked off in long strips. I want to look at them more. I’m curious about the citizens.

Very curious.

I crawl up the side of a particularly tall building, which has a missing wall of crumbled brick. I need the roof to see what’s happening. I won’t leap up to the very top of this sheet of metal. It would give away my position. I hang off the roof and balance myself on the side of the building. I look back towards the flowing crowds heading for the mountains. They must’ve been hiding in their homes when the first attack happened and are now running back towards the Shingles. A man has stopped and is staring at me. He’s old and has very dark eyes. He looks at me like I know him.

I don’t know him, do I?

I can’t see anything from my dangling vantage point. I swing up onto the roof. The world seems too chaotic for the outlanders to notice me. On the roof, I notice two more large buildings ahead of me. I leap onto the side of one and scamper up it. I need to pinpoint where the people are fleeing into the mountains. I’m sure it’s where the mountains first open into a maze of honeycomb paths. The invaders won’t find it so easily. I will cut them into pieces.

The city stretches behind me, the legendary town, which the unknown nations chase for legend. Snow continues to fall lightly. The city looks beautiful beneath the listless petals, like it should never be touched or disturbed. I need to look at it before I turn my eyes to war. The roofs are flowing to the cobblestone ground in sharp points. The thick gutters are stretched with watchful icicles. There are sculptures of men and women, lining the paths and buildings, posing in old histories. Despite the blood and wandering rubble, the city glows against the snow.

I wouldn’t mind seeing this place again.

I run up to the point of the slanted roof, and crouch down on its edge. I was right. They drove the citizens across the valley towards the mountains. The encroachers moved too fast and cut them off before they could reach the mountains. I was wrong to think the invaders wouldn’t make it around to flank the civilians. The outlanders have formed lines, long columns of brown metal with those hammering crossbows.

They aren’t firing into the open space filled with civilians. They’re targeting someone else. Forms are slashing and charging the outlanders from behind. Thousands are rushing out onto the armored lines of troops.

It’s the Ills.

I’ll be releasing my novel Beware the Ills in segments every Friday. You can find out more about the book right here, or check out Amazon’s info. I love this book. Happy to simply share it. 

We're finally at the Diamond Town. A giant battle is happening. The Guardian is changing. The Cursed Island is unraveling. Enjoy Beware the Ills. Not much is left.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/05/29/beware-the-ills-part-45/

La première relecture du livre des règles est officiellement en cours. Encore du travail, mais la suite de The Caravan prend forme page après page.

#jdr #thecaravan #rpg #darkfantasy #jeuderole #ambiance

www.xaviiiier.com