All this reminds me of the dark continent in this world...
Shadows of Childhood
Childhood taught me to see shadows where adults notice only light. Now gray touches my temples, and I understand: the world is a book where every page holds a secret.
I was ten when I first heard about the Dark Continent.
The Land Beyond the Veil
Beyond stormy oceans lies a land where stars sing different songs. When the world was young, all lands stood against this black shadow—from blooming plains to our northern wastelands. We were brothers then, sharing the last piece of bread.
That was so long ago that even stones have forgotten.
They have their own clocks there, their own sunsets. Time split into branches, leaving us in different eras. Is that why we stopped understanding each other?
The inhabitants of that land are weak as fledglings, but in their weakness lies terrible strength. Kill an enemy, and his power becomes yours. They feed on death like flowers on the sun.
Mirror of Fears
I remember the old Kriver man by the fireplace. Understanding lived in his eyes, but his hands remained folded. "Let the storm decide whom to carry away," he said.
Wisdom or cowardice? War came uninvited, knocking at the door in the middle of the night.
The Dark Continent is not just land. It's a mirror of our fears and desires, where the sun drowns in eternal twilight, and the air smells of iron and ash.
Children of Darkness
Dark elves—shadows reaching for light. Skin pale as winter dawn, hair blacker than moonless night. Coal eyes look through the soul. Their kiss can heal or kill—depending on what you deserve.
Orcs—a different breed. Shoulders wider than oak gates, skin the color of rainy earth. They know no magic—why, if a fist strikes harder than a spell? One orc—a warrior. A hundred—a storm sweeping everything in its path.
Goblins hide where light is a rare guest. Small, agile, with minds sharp as their ears. One—a mosquito by the ear. A hundred—a hurricane sweeping armies.