The dreadful desert lay at the southern edge of the Voiceless Region, and there the Black War neared its end. People had forgotten what they fought for. A bigger picture had consumed their desires, one none of them could fathom.
Throats were slit without care, and blood spilled without hesitation, all driven by a will that wasn't their own.
This came from the one in darkness, the one with the black and golden mask. The shadow who didn't care who lived or died. The Dark Saint.
Over three thousand warriors had fallen, and more would soon follow into eternal darkness. A third of them had died by the Child of Manipulation's hand alone.
Those glowing white eyes spoke of rage and desperation no one could put into words. But when she spoke, nothing was questioned. After all, she was an immortal being who simply couldn't be killed by mere mortals.
Thus, all of this was brought into being for her desires and to see her master, Shadow of Death, rule one day.
***
***
