Amon Seth: The Harvest of Souls
The sky is shared with fury, the winds whisper death, and Asgarth shakes under my march. I came back – not as a king who betrayed, but as a harbinger of their fate.
With my obscure army at my side I hold a sickle and have staff, drawing souls with each strike. Their screams drive me, their terror strengthens me. With every life that I absorb, my power swells, my revenge is deepening.
This is not a battle – this is extermination. Asgarth slept, his heritage removed. But one soul remains … a traitor, my brother. It will be the last one, and when I do this, I will exceed the mortality itself.
Tonight Asgarth Falls. I collect their souls tonight.
Blades
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