Sneak Peek (Éoin's Memory) (Patreon)

Important!

Happy new year to you all!! Thank you so much for your continuous support this year. You guys changed my life and I hope next year is just as blessed! 🥳❤

This is a sneak peek of the second part of chapter 02 where our dear Éoin admires a map and remembers a few things of their past.

Male Éoin

The rivers of flowing lava slowly traveling down the gentle slopes of the volcano. The young man can practically feel the heat coming from the painting, it licks at his clammy skin igniting memories they tried for so long to suppress.
       
His parents and the locals used to call the behemoth, Mount Inferno. It received this name from the villagers that lived at its feet and only survived by its divine mercy. It's fitting, really. He can barely remember anything more than the feeling of living in the shadow of that giant. It made him feel so small, as if try as he might he could never leave its influence.
       
His people and the merciful giant lived in harmony, but their relationship was nothing like the symbiosis between two species; it was clear to them who was the master, and he remained tolerant of their presence.
       
He can perfectly recall father telling him bedtime stories, one of those legends said the volcano sprouted from the earth itself in all its fiery glory, not long after the star fell from the skies. It raged and spitted enough molten rock to create a new small island, the very air turned black from the ashes and the night sky was set alight with crimson lightning storms.

After a few years, that seemed more like an eternity for the residents of the continent, the volcano cooled off. The flowing lava never really did though, something that served the people well. Like a beast falling into slumber, the inferno and the angry god of fire are the same, and they were appeased by the prayers and the seemingly eternal grief ladening his heart.

His eyes then travel to the next thing that gets his attention.

The several scattered villages across the mainland and surrounding islands, tiny in size but each harboring a few thousand people.
       
He can pinpoint and name every village out of the dozens sprinkled through out the isolated continent, but a particular one always draws his attention. A tiny thing surrounded by a forest of ice-covered pines and an active volcano. Flashes of long repressed memories fight their way to the front of his mind. Of a childhood ended too soon.
       
A woman, her fiery locks as exotic as the blood-drenched blade's edge, coming down at her in a brutal arc. The warm scarlet liquid seemed to sear at the skin of his face, contrasting with the cold of the snow cloaked forest. All around them the village was overshadowed by the screams of desperate people and the merciless war cries of barbarians.
       
The blackness of the night was set alight with the infernal glow of burning houses and the refracting glare of spells being cast carelessly. The leafless tress were ignited by jagged lightning and explosive arcane blasts.
       
The woman looked at him with bloodshot eyes. The blue depths held only fear, the kind of fear that leaves you petrified and rooted to the ground as ice flows through your veins. She pleaded with him to run, and so he did—for days—until his legs gave out. The startled faces of his fathers are the first thing he remembers seeing after what happened, and the only memory he will hold on for dear life.


Female Éoin

The rivers of flowing lava slowly traveling down the gentle slopes of the volcano. The young woman can practically feel the heat coming from the painting, it licks at ${ehis} clammy skin igniting memories she tried for so long to suppress.
       
Her parents and the locals used to call the behemoth, Mount Inferno. It received this name from the villagers that lived at its feet and only survived by its divine mercy. It's fitting, really. She can barely remember anything more than the feeling of living in the shadow of that giant. It made her feel so small, as if try as she might she could never leave its influence.
       
Her people and the merciful giant lived in harmony, but their relationship was nothing like the symbiosis between two species; it was clear to them who was the master, and he remained tolerant of their presence.
       
She can perfectly recall father telling her bedtime stories, one of those legends said the volcano sprouted from the earth itself in all its fiery glory, not long after the star fell from the skies. It raged and spitted enough molten rock to create a new small island, the very air turned black from the ashes and the night sky was set alight with crimson lightning storms.
       
After a few years, that seemed more like an eternity for the residents of the continent, the volcano cooled off. The flowing lava never really did though, something that served the people well. Like a beast falling into slumber, the inferno and the angry god of fire are the same, and they were appeased by the prayers and the seemingly eternal grief ladening his heart.

His eyes then travel to the next thing that gets his attention.

The several scattered villages across the mainland and surrounding islands, tiny in size but each harboring a few thousand people.
       
She can pinpoint and name every village out of the dozens sprinkled through out the isolated continent, but a particular one always draws her attention. A tiny thing surrounded by a forest of ice-covered pines and an active volcano. Flashes of long repressed memories fight their way to the front of her mind. Of a childhood ended too soon.
       
A woman, her fiery locks as exotic as the blood-drenched blade's edge, coming down at her in a brutal arc. The warm scarlet liquid seemed to sear at the skin of her face, contrasting with the cold of the snow cloaked forest. All around them the village was overshadowed by the screams of desperate people and the merciless warcries of barbarians.
       
The blackness of the night was set alight with the infernal glow of burning houses and the refracting glare of spells being cast carelessly. The leafless tress were ignited by jagged lightning and explosive arcane blasts.

The woman looked at her with bloodshot eyes. The blue depths held only fear, the kind of fear that leaves you petrified and rooted to the ground as ice flows through your veins. She pleadedwith her to run and so she did, for days, until her legs gave out. The startled faces of her fathers are the first thing she remembers seeing after what happened, and the only memory he will hold on for dear life.