Swirling ash and pyre of steel, sinew made anew.
Flesh was born of an errant blade, mind of magma’s snare.
Bones shaped by forge so deep, magic a sovereign’s own.
Skin warped in brimstone-treason, power under divinity flare.
Come, sink your soul, come churn the stew.
My creation, my son, rise from eldritch brew.
Unwind, come undone, restitched in mine image.
An earthwalker who gives no quarter.
Bake in my own visage.
Twine around clock of hands, until the stars align, ‘o thee.
BORN OF A SWORD OF OLD, GREATNESS INHERIT THEE!
- Grimoire of Aster, addition 1703948: A child of mana, not womb.
A hand reached from the pit, a thing only ten feet deep, and yet the weakness in their body making them shiver with strain.
With a bit more effort, they nonetheless pulled themself from the rim.
A man, naked as the day they were born, which can be said to be today, rose from the shallow in the earth. They were covered in clear, viscous liquid, almost like mucus but in a combination with the pus one gets from burns. More sticky than slippery, strands beading down even as they laid there, attempting to breathe.
An attempt that ended with him hacking up a very concerning amount of grayish fluid. Then again, the fact it is grayish fluid in the first place is likely concerning.
Their hair and skin slowly changed pigment as they gasped like a fish on land. The craggy stone underneath their grasp was raw against new skin.
His focus slowly came into vision surprisingly, rather than the other way around, the eyes developing at a magnificent rate. Ears, already functional, flicked around as a low rumble shook the cave and his very core.
“Well,”
All the air in the area held still to harken unto the voice, even in his own lungs.
“Welcome to the land of the living, child.”
Though they couldn’t feel, see, or hear the action, they felt a gesture of one moving their head from side to side, apparently to correct themself.
“No.”
A gaze of cinders viewed him directly, only, rather than everything else he was feeling, it felt warm. Comforting warm, one that made all the pain go away.
There stood no person, there stood no being, merely a sword lodged in the earth, the gemstone embedded in its hilt like an eye in intensity. Though an object, it felt... fatherly, full of parental love. For a moment, he forgot about his marrow currently being knit together.
