{maleficar}
My corrupt nature is empty of grace.
Summoning the wrath of the volcano had exhausted him so thoroughly that slumbering beneath the magma had felt like his only option. He had known that Leliana would keep both the Tephrans and the Loessians safe from harm and so he plunged into the fiery depths much as her husband did. But Death has never lusted for his soul nor has it felt any inclination to even tease him with the promise of ink black eternity.
When he wakes, he feels a stale sigh slip from his lungs as he knows this depthless dark is not his demise. The towering witch kicks at the rock and rises from his coffin, shaking soot and ash from his midnight colored body. A cough sends a puff of smog from his lips and he finds himself laughing at the sight of it. But his eyes are quickly brought to the kingdom in which he wakes – he had expected it to still be ravaged by the fire and laid to waste. Instead, it blooms to life and he finds himself furrowing his brow in confusion.
“How long have I slept..?” he finds himself wondering aloud as he carefully steps from the rubble. His legs wobble a bit from their disuse but it only takes a few long strides until he finds his strength once more. Maleficar’s joy seeps into the roots of the flowers and turns them all a little more vibrant as he wades through the bright green stalks of fresh spring grass. They crane toward him like the sun but his eyes are wandering too quickly to take notice. Some branches still bear their scorch marks or remain snapped by dragon’s lumbering bodies, but new vines twist and curl around the tropical trees and bear fat fruit in spite of it.
The witch lightly touches his nose to a bunch of berries before gingerly taking one between his teeth and plucking it. Mal is pleased at how it bursts easily over his tongue and tastes sweeter than he imagined it would. Tephra seems to have thrived while he hibernated but he wonders if the planet has really rotated so may times around the sun or if the magicians he fought alongside dabbled in its growth.
He shrugs, and bites another berry from the vine.
When he wakes, he feels a stale sigh slip from his lungs as he knows this depthless dark is not his demise. The towering witch kicks at the rock and rises from his coffin, shaking soot and ash from his midnight colored body. A cough sends a puff of smog from his lips and he finds himself laughing at the sight of it. But his eyes are quickly brought to the kingdom in which he wakes – he had expected it to still be ravaged by the fire and laid to waste. Instead, it blooms to life and he finds himself furrowing his brow in confusion.
“How long have I slept..?” he finds himself wondering aloud as he carefully steps from the rubble. His legs wobble a bit from their disuse but it only takes a few long strides until he finds his strength once more. Maleficar’s joy seeps into the roots of the flowers and turns them all a little more vibrant as he wades through the bright green stalks of fresh spring grass. They crane toward him like the sun but his eyes are wandering too quickly to take notice. Some branches still bear their scorch marks or remain snapped by dragon’s lumbering bodies, but new vines twist and curl around the tropical trees and bear fat fruit in spite of it.
The witch lightly touches his nose to a bunch of berries before gingerly taking one between his teeth and plucking it. Mal is pleased at how it bursts easily over his tongue and tastes sweeter than he imagined it would. Tephra seems to have thrived while he hibernated but he wonders if the planet has really rotated so may times around the sun or if the magicians he fought alongside dabbled in its growth.
He shrugs, and bites another berry from the vine.