After the disappearance of the Outer Gods…
A silence fell over Earth.
But it was not peace.
It was the kind of silence left after a storm, where debris still litters the ground, and the air smells faintly of blood and ozone.
With the Outer Ones erased, true Death, the kind that even gods fear, swept clean the cracks they left behind. Their presence, their contracts, their influence… gone.
But not without cost.
Those who had once accepted their power, who had made pacts with gods that defied form and name, were now free, unshackled from the whispers that once curled around their minds like leeches.
Yet the marks remained.
Physical changes. Psychological scars. Echoes.
Twisted eyes. Veined skin. Voices that still sometimes spoke in sleep.
Even though the Outer Ones were gone, their remnants remained etched into the bodies of those who once bore their sigils.
And these marks would never fade.
Not until death.
But Earth had changed, too.
