A world far, far away from Serphendale boasted nine red moons, crimson rivers, and towering obsidian cliffs.
This same world bore a mile-long sword gash with an immeasurable depth. The tear in the earth was so deep that light itself seemed to be devoured by its depths.
Deep inside the gash, a circular platform floated above the abyss, seemingly unmoving.
The platform looked rugged and ancient and was overflowing with such malevolence and pure evil that it was visible to the naked eye and appeared as a natural fog.
A thin, almost skeletal figure wrapped in bandages sat at the center of the platform.
His left eye was gruesomely stitched shut by black threads. Over the sealed eyelid, incomprehensible words were inscribed.
His right eye and mouth, both of which were wide open, were pitch black.
