My Blood Wizard System
Beyond the atmospheric veil, stars are winking out—one by one, then in clusters, the darkness spreading with a silent, sucking pull that makes my ears pop.
A swarm—millions upon millions of shadow-ships, tendrils of pure void writhing like living smoke, cold and slick against my senses even from here, mouths like black holes yawning open, edges rimmed with devoured starlight that leaves a taste of ash on my tongue.
The Devourer Swarm.
Hungry for worlds.
For magic.
For us.
The air here tastes metallic—ozone mixed with the void’s nothing, making my tongue numb and my skin crawl with static.