Queer Fantasy and Weird Tales for the People
The wind howled across the steppe. I should have been afraid, but I was not aware enough for fear; hunger and cold were my constant and only companions for so long that I had ceased to notice even their presence. I stood and gripped my makeshift spear, my fingers numb and my body shivering. I was accustomed to cold, but I was undernourished and insufficiently clothed.
Listen. Let me tell you a story.
I will tell you of my journey, from the ocean at the end of the world to the mountain of iron, beneath which slept a horror of ages long past.
I will tell you of the daughter of the stargazer, who found me on the northern wastes at the end of my long winter.
I will tell you of the woman who dared to defy the seven gods of the citadel.
And I will tell you of the barefoot prophet, for the man who now sits on the throne of Phyreios is not the same as the one who walked among its people in the days before the cataclysm.
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