The shadow surfaced from the memory.
But he also drowned in it.
The slave, the slave driver, the warrior of a lightless land… each of their lives was so vast, so vibrant, so intricate in its infinite complexity. Just one was enough to lose himself, and there were thousands — hundreds of thousands — of past lives crowding his tired mind.
And past deaths, as well.
The cursed legionnaire had not perished on the day the sun rose above his fallen land. An eon of Corruption followed, spent in the embrace of frenzied agony. Just as he had predicted, the civilization built on the bones of a dreadful hecatomb was eventually destroyed, and all memories of his people were erased from the world.
Only Corruption remained.
But the shadow remembered.
