There is no future to look to.
Look instead to the past, to the bygone dawning age, never to return. Look instead to the sky, to the xaeic lords of pain, and ruin, and blood. Look instead
to your feet, to the delusions of sword and kingdom.
In dead and echoing monasteries, the elemental fires have burned to cinders. Weeping desperates cast the charcoal into their eyes, hoping to spark them with
x-ray visions; they look for a more righteous place unbathed in blood, possesed by god, shaded by towers.
In temples to alien stars, skin is flayed and veins are replaced with centipedes. Faith descends from the stars, in the guise of horrific seeings. Benediction
is sought from the starlords, and takes shape in eldritch flesh and esper gnosis. Uranium-clad empires span the constellations, beyond the reach of pitiful mankind.
In crumbling earthforts and rotted castles, what kings remain— rather than give up the scant demesnes they hold— instead take swords to them.
They inter their honored dead in catacombs of blood; they weep for their tribe when no other would; they stuff their gullets with gold and rare earth elements.
•••
The dark fantasy world of Kyn is a multimedia project, consisting of prose, poetry, and art. Expect desolation, heartbreak, horror. Witness deeds of great valor,
unspeakable evil, and final hope. Meet people for whom life has but one utter meaning, and that is to find god at any cost.
Know thy truth, chimera.