To Craft a Monster // Breathe the End


A weapon. A weapon forged to finally defeat the enemy; corruptors of mankind, wielders of flesh-crafting magics. The forces of Adytum, for that is what they call their cursed city, to which they dare give the name of the land of freedom. They are led by Ion the Mutineer, who dares to call himself the godslayer. He wields forbidden magics, but has forgotten that his sign is not the crown of power, but the rusted chains of a slave. He must not be allowed to enter Daevon and conclude his bloody insurrection, upheld by what he calls justice and vengeance.

To achieve such a weapon, a ritual will be required, its ingredients as follow:

  • The body of a barely-alive desert wyvern, its scales impossible to pierce by any blade or arrow;
  • A catalyst that will seize the soul of the beast from its body and leave it an empty shell, a vessel for the hatred of great Daeva warriors;
  • Seven candles made from the body fat of traitors;
  • Blood mixed with sulfur, used to close the ritual circle.

The most important step of the ritual is acquiring the vessel. The Thar desert is home to many such wyverns — it is therefore the perfect place to hunt the creature. The being must be vastly superior to the other beasts in order to be able to massacre the hordes of the enemy. To defeat its claws and scales, which protect it from almost any attack, we will use the rite of entanglement and catch the creature. Once it has fallen to its knees, we will drag it to the Grand Temple, where the ritual will be performed.

Words of Ishaan the Priestess, infused with Power
Sing to the steps of a marching army, I-I-III


Foes of
shall soon find their graves

We shall
wipe out
unobedient slaves

Their four
and the kin of Ion

fallen by our iron


No war should last four decades, but the conflict fought against the Mutineer seems to have no end. Since the first battle of his Uprising, fought in the dungeons of the Grand Temple, the Heretic seems to only grow stronger. No matter the might of the armies of the stolen Scarlet that are sent against the carnomancers at the Maharani's behest: the king of the godless always emerges victorious.

His control over the body rivals even the Fool's magic that binds Daevon's invincible armies. Both the Khanate and the Grand Court are left powerless when the Hundred-fathomed Colossus, the Fool's Mistress, the Condemned Scholar, and the Venomous Cloak throw themselves into battle alongside their mentor, for their march soon becomes unstoppable. The power of the platoons sent from under Daevon to their deaths is irrelevant, for all it takes is the snap of a finger and Adytum's servants turn their bodies to dead meat.

To succeed in the battle against them, an ideal being will be needed: one that moves beyond life and death. The Mutineered has declared his dominion over creatures of flesh — the only chance to stop his impending siege of Daevon is an ungodly behemoth that would be able to resist his magic while decimating his people with a single sweep of its monstrous body.


from an ancient age

Led by
the son
let out of his cage

in his battle fury

ground into a slurry


Just as the Maharani had resurrected one of the sons of Adam, Her power over life will once again show Daevon a path to victory over death. Once the wyvern's body has been hollowed out of its bestial soul, it will be filled with the rage and fury of a hundred of the most distinguished Daeva warriors. Using the stolen magic of the Forest and of the Night, their Anima will be molded into a soul-shaped hole, in the heart of which only a scream of fury will remain. A scream whose hatred will be directed against the Rebellion.

Once the soul has been transformed, the Maharani will close the ritual circle and decorate it with seven candles which will focus the Fool's attention solely on her. She will then proceed to slay the beast, resurrecting it shortly thereafter with the help of runes and signs carved into its scales. In this dance they will stand together for thirteen moons — and with each repetition the beast will absorb more power onto itself, sucking it in like a blood-seeped bandage. This will continue until the essence of the beast finally leaves the circle of samsara and becomes a creature that exists beyond the Great Cycle of the universe.

Then — and only then — from the animal instincts of the wyvern and human hatred will a true anger birth itself. Anger against all that lives under the boot of samsara; anger against all that is troubled by life; anger against all that dares to call itself human. The Mutineer prides himself on rejecting the title of a god, on living as a normal human being. If he truly wants to earn this title, however, he will have to face the single most human quality of them all: the hatred of his enemy.


Arm in
arm with
beast of desert blood

For the
they will be subdued

blessed be her word

With Her
we shall
leave our rivals gored


We chained the exhausted wyvern to the floor with shackles of blood. It squirmed, fearing what was about to come. Little did it know that it would soon help Daevon reach a victory against peasants that did not know their place in this world. It tried to set itself free, but after many hours it ceased in its struggle; it finally surrendered and accepted its noble fate. A circle of sacrificial blood and sulfur was formed around its body, and candles were placed at the tops of the heptagram within.

To protect the weapon from Ion's manipulations, we pierced its skull with a dagger and immediately seized the fleeing soul directly into the catalyst, where it writhed and screamed, begging for freedom. We let it back in into its body, engraving runes within its scales, and then snatched it into the catalyst once more. This cycle continued until the beast finally stopped feeling the pain of its wounds. It became apathetic; it ignored the pain, which meant it was ready for its destined gift, the chalice filled with hatred.

The essence flowed through its veins, its arteries, its every single limb, until there was nothing but fury left inside the beast. Hatred suddenly snapped inside the creature as if it was being guided by the strings of something much bigger, something much more powerful. When it finally got to its feet, it let out a piercing roar that brought forward images of true terror. That display was a sign the ritual had succeeded and the weapon was ready for the arrival of the proudful enemy.


walls of
the Immortal Fortress

Falls the
now utterly hopeless

To the
of the Endless Khanate

led by
children of the Scarlet

Under Daevon

Klavigar Nadox, Lost Poems


Beyond the walls of the city, the world signed a contract
for words;
their number minimal


Amongst the march of a million feet
that tear up the ground inside the city
so ready to kill


As we five enter inside
seeing nothing
but a broken ruin


Between palaces, temples
and granaries


On the Square of Wernorad, in the heart of Daevon
whose sky thundered with the cries of battle
just one day before


In the heart of the beast, its body atop a hill of silent corpses
akin to a king beneath the capital of the Khanate;
its eyes a cruel parody of equity


Inside its soul, which in its silent hatred
understands one thing, and one thing only:
the urge to kill its masters


When in its boundless rage, its eyes lock with that of Ion
the gesture is full of
only understanding.

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