Blurbs and excerpts of a spin-off novel set in the universe of Sunstorm, my IP of interconnected stories. Currently in linear prose form, but adaptable to player choices in dialogue, murder-mystery investigation, combat, and cinematic cutscenes.

Blurb

A mountain range runs across the northernmost fringe of the world. Beyond it, the Sun never shines. Icing black storms gather to descend upon the unwary. Grotesque terrors slowly creep over, ever hungrier and bolder. A moonless winter draws near, and while the Faith calls upon men to place their trust in the Heavens, those of power call them to arms, to guard what little remains to them. Some still wander between it all—Day and Night, peace and war, man and beast.

A nun is summoned to investigate a mysterious disease, testing her faith against the fields of science. A soldier from an occupying empire is forced to decide between treason and the lives of her comrades. A hunter from faraway wilds traverses a conflict that is not his own, searching to heal an ever-deepening scar. The World unfolds for those who breathe its Fire, and its underlying truths emerge inescapable: When cold strikes, food lacks, and ambitions arise, few things separate men from monsters.

Excerpts

“As the Heavens bid, Man has claimed the entirety of the Daylands. No longer do beasts prey upon our families. Man has secured every bit of land the Sun touches. But I ask of you, to whom do we owe this favor? This gift? Technology’s played a part, to be sure. Firearms can take down even Dragons. But arms would be useless without bravery. I’ll tell you who it is we are indebted to: the Grand Nation of Szvarya. Her lands so arid, her winds so cold, yet so strong are her people, to stand beside the Darklands and its hordes. All the rich, starless countries owe their safety to the guardians of the Sunset, the shield of civilization, those who willingly choose to lack in food and warmth to fight off the enemies of the Day. An atheist nation, that much is true, but no greater service have the Heavens received than theirs, while we, in our pious comfort, fight our petty disputes of a land vast enough for all, and blessed with a never-fading Sun to boot! So what if they venture into the Night? So what if they see fit to use the riches that await, slaying monsters in their wake? Have they not earned that right, the right to prosper?”

—Adamant Fort, spokesman, citizen of the Caelic Empire, four days before his disappearance—

"When we reached the top of the Horned Crown, the highest rise amidst the forests of the Evernight, we saw the lights drifting away towards the horizon. None had seen so far into the Night, for no light shone upon it. But that day, we made history.
Man had told themself a legend, that at the very center of the Evernight, the World's Fire could be found. The cradle of all Life. The key to achieving the Everday, and rejoicing eternally in the Sun's light. No longer would monsters prowl the lands of the good; no longer would the reaches of the world be denied to us.

What we found was just another ocean. Those lights adrift could only move as such from tide and wind; that much was true. Just another shore of the Known World. But the Fyrians had set out to cross that ocean, upon whatever seacraft they knew to make. And some believe them beasts! Demons! This wasn't history's largest mass suicide, no. They knew what they were doing.

Something awaits mankind behind the Black Sea, as they call it. I have set the first stone to seeking it out."

—Leene Lorday, criminal, explorer, and farmer—

"This tale of the ‘World’s Fire’… I believe it to be real. No, no, I really mean it. An everlasting flame in the depths of the world? That much exists. It is Hell. They believe it to be the source of Creation. Of course the wicked would believe the world to be as they are. They will find it. And with it, the damnation they deserve."

—Everard "Pious" Kempt, High Priest of the Caelic Church—

"Your gods fool you, hunter. They tell you that you are mud, that you are made and given shape, that you are meant to lie low and drift away. But earth and water are not what makes us: They are only what remains. From all that lives, fire is drawn. You see the world and see shapes and substance, air and stone and water. But eyes are made to live, not to see the truth. Fire dwells within it all, resplendent and powerful. And the nature of fire is to fight.
Do you men not heed the dread that fills your hearts when you look upon the stars? Do you not see the Sun grow colder, the Night stretch longer? The Night comes for us all, a black devoid of light, when all the fires in heaven and earth are finally put out. The world is cold, hunter; that is the only truth. All that lives must die, and all that burns must burn out. For all comes a time when the only thing we can do is lie down.

Yet until then, we burn through. Our hearts beat aflame. We last, as much as we can, some hotter, some brighter. We fight, hunter. We fight the cold that comes down on us all. Not to defeat it, for none can. But because it is the only way to live.
Go now with this lesson, human. If you should live, you must fight. But beware. You are one who can wear death, and eat life. Do not fool yourself: No matter how many kindlings come close, no flame can last forever. No matter how many you kill, you will die. How you will... Is up to you."

—An Elder Fyrian upon his deathbed, name unknown—

Art credits: Lunarmoon Studios