The Last Eternal

One hundred years ago, the Eternals, 13 men and women closer to gods than mortals, stood against the greatest threat the world had ever faced. They died. All save for one who managed to flee with the enemy leader’s weapon, a cursed blade of incredible power. This is a battle he fights alone, for after they defeated the Eternals, the enemy used their magic to pose as their conquered opponents, taking over rule of the world in their stead. For the last 100 years, the people have believed that the legendary Eternals triumphed, that they are safe. Only the wanderer knows the truth .

The wanderer knows this, for over the last century he has lived those stories, has seen them scrawled in his blood or the blood of others. Others like those dead Perishables scattered about the noble’s courtyard, like those servants of the enemy, mortal and not, lying beside them. And yet…he knows it is only the beginning.

He’d faced the monster posing as Soldier in combat, and he had won. But at what cost? Forty-seven villagers of Alhs dead. So many that they could not bury them all and so they had looked to the old ways.

That was nothing new, for death had been coming for the wanderer for a long time now. But this time, it did not just come for him. It came for Dekker and his family, for Clint and the Perishables, and the villagers of Alhs. Death was coming. And it was he who had called it. The enemy who had taken Ranger’s place hunted them, and at his back marched an army of Revenants, creatures who felt no pain, who knew no fear, and so the wanderer and his companions head deeper into the Untamed Lands in search of safe haven.

Death has a voice. The wanderer knew that, for he had heard that voice often enough. And as he walked through the village of Alhs, past the corpses of those who had chosen to stay, he heard it again. He heard it in the rasp of the wind along the eaves of the abandoned homes he passed, heard it in the slow, methodical banging of window shutters with no one to secure them.