"Arren."

He smelled burning flesh. Or perhaps he simply believed he did. He couldn't much tell reality from delusion these days.

"Arren, awaken."

For instance, that voice commanding him to wake up? No idea if it was just in his head.

There was smoke and screaming. It had to be a dream, now of that he was almost certain, or rather a memory incorporated into one. His family.

Arren never thought of them, but now with the sweat collecting on his back and his blankets tight around him like a noose, it was impossible not to. The next image came to him unbidden. Issa's young face, contorted and blistered - dead.

"RISE OR PERISH."

The flames licked around him, his eyes shooting open, and Arren knew the voice. It WAS in his head and he was wrong - this was no dream.

The cavern was filled with smoke but through it, he could make out the shapes of the others, just moments earlier peaceful in sleep, flailing with their bodies set ablaze. Without checking he knew he too was burning, he could feel the familiar sear of it, and it felt like a betrayal.

His brethren were dying and Arren laughed from deep in his chest, tears glittering in his eyes, tears caused by the flame only.

They strode in through the fire, illuminated in righteous glory with those wicked weapons drawn, expecting a fight even after a slaughter. Arren commended them for it even as their shining sun seal became all he could see.

"You will live…" the voice breathed, and he understood it was not a comfort, it was an order. A short time ago, following it through would have been unbearable.

"Yes, mistress." He whispered, and then he collapsed from the pain.


I see the looks on your innocent faces. You're wondering what hell is going on, amirite?

A religious war, basically. History time (I made this all up, btw).

From the dawn of time, the world has been "governed" by a pantheon of gods and goddesses, who are as follows:

- Utione, god of the rich, the known, and those who wish to be so.

- Naltia, goddess of the innocent, the broken, and the needy.

- Mortabela, goddess of the forsaken, the usurpers, and the dark of heart.

- Bahar, god of the wild, the water, and the winds.

- Lux, goddess of the true, the victorious, and the holy.

- Oberis, god of the dead, the lost, and all in-betweens.

Throughout the years, all of the gods have waged war, but none hate the other more than Lux and Mortabela, enemies from the beginning to the end of time. The animosity was caused by Mortabela "usurping" the natural order of the world by granting her most loyal followers abilities no human should ever have. The cost of these abilities is heinous, further angering Lux, who is sworn to protect against such abominations.

Thus, The Sacred Order of the Hallowed Light was born. These righteous warriors have but one goal: to hunt and destroy those gifted by the dark goddess Mortabela.

In the passage above, you read them at work from the point of view of one such "gifted." However, all is not as it seems. I have withheld information from you, so don't go making assumptions about who is right or wrong - yet.

I created Arren, but he isn't the main character, rather a piece of many of which makes this game work. That's where you guys come in.

Info and form are on my author page for your convenience. If you have questions about anything you read or about creating your character, please please please don't be afraid to ask. I have a lot of hope for this story, but I need your characters first.

The Sacred Order of the Hallowed Light needs you! The recruitment form is on the author's profile, along with more information about the lore, the world, and the glorious battle against gifted insurgents. Submit today while you still can!