The Genesis of the Dead
'What is my purpose?' He thought as he gazed at the carnage that surrounded him. With every step he takes countless perish, with every action countless mourn. Behind him legions so vast they cover the horizon and blot out the heavens. His soldiers, servants, friends, children. 'That's right.' He remembered with a tinge of melancholy, 'This is my purpose.' Author's note: High fantasy setting, with a heavy emphasis on action, army tactics, political schemes and world building. No harem and very little romance.
Chapter 61
After Corvina's tale, the group sat in uneasy silence. The only sound in the room came from the witch, who was instructing her flock of birds to prepare more tea. The air seemed heavier, weighed down by the gravity of her story. When her cup was ready, she turned her attention to the last individual in the group who had yet to voice a question.
"And you, dear? What's something you're curious about?" she asked, her malicious, toothy smile stretching unnervingly wide.
Maveth had countless questions swirling in his mind. His thoughts raced from the mysteries of his own origins to the purpose behind the enigmatic objective he'd been tasked with. Yet, deep down, he understood that the answers he sought were unlikely to come from this witch. Her knowledge, while vast, would not encompass the truths he yearned for. Instead, there was another matter that demanded clarity, a question that held immediate urgency.