zoldar

Demoncraft by Zoldar Chapter 1 Selena ran as hastily as her feet could move, darting between the ancient trees that thrust through the cracked barren land into the obscure zenith. The forest was reigned by foggy moors and hordes of insects, and the ambient was dense and vaulted. Her copper-brown complexion shimmered in an auburn colour under the moon rays, which issued from a quasi-hidden, crescent moon marred by the opaque clouds. Her blood was ice-cold, and she felt as if thousands of stalactites were puncturing her terse skin. Her wild turquoise eyes frenetically bolted towards her flanks, alert to any oddities. The many jewels hangin

 Kyro ambled through the moss-carpeted path in utter serenity. His slender silhouette wandered placidly amid an orchard of damsons lush in ripe plums and emanating a delicate, mellow scent. This particular fragrance overwhelmed him, and he could not help but sighing in sheer delight. He grasped a noticeably mature specimen and masticated it with ataraxy, savouring its uniquely sweet and luscious tang and smooth flesh. The amber-gold sun was especially brilliant that dawn, reigning in the azure-hued sky; its rays caressing Kyro's visage with gentle cosiness. The cool, virgin zephyrs engulfed his entire being, pouring into his lungs in such

The mind of a madman is but an obscure dungeon; a kaleidoscope of spectral shadows that maraud in the murk and breed grotesque machinations, which are subsequently performed by the infected host...

Dragonflies hovered in a hostile frenzy, torquing in hordes haphazardly around the ancient chapel. The fiend was concealing itself within the marred murals, lurking, awaiting for its prey. The dragonfiles knew it; soon they would feast themselves with remnants of death flesh. The grand portal was opened, and the damned Raziér entered the edifice, inadvertently striving his own doom... The door was sealed tightly behind his back by a mighty gale, and shadows reigned again. Shadows alone, shadows and the moan, that tormenting, heart-breaking moan...

A Bizarre Incident    The alarm clock rang, punctually as always, at seven o clock. Gerard woke up in a shock and headed to the bathroom slowly and uneasily. He prepared for a tedious everyday routine, craving, as every single day of his mediocre existance for some diversion in his boring life. Ever since his wife and two children had been brutally slaughtered by a lunatic who broke into their house a couple of years before, he had been lonely and miserable. The scene repeated over and over in a recurring nightmare, and every time he remembered the event he entered into a deep and dolourous depression.    That precise day, the memory was