atmora

Stranded. Adrift, in this godforsaken land—where the sky stretches too wide, the earth feels too foreign, and the moon above is a quiet witness to your solitude.  

Vast emerald forests stretch beyond the horizon, endless oceans whisper secrets to the wind, and mighty empires rise and fall in splendor, power, and ruin. Even magic—fleeting, elusive, a mere glimmer in the dark—still lingers. Just enough to tempt the desperate and the dreamers alike.

This world calls to you, sings sweet promises, lures you in—until you’re ensnared, bound, lost to it forever. 

It is beautiful. Breathtaking. 

And yet, it grinds you down. Bit by bit, like the tide wears away stone. For in this world, no matter how far you run, no matter how far you wander—the road ahead is always paved with violence. 

There is no mercy. No escape. Only the slow, inevitable descent.

Table of Old World Blues

Table of contents

Volume 1