Black Morass mauritius

kóvictus rumbles low. no. they will fear me. they will worship you. words buried into the neck of his wife. nose brushing the scar that brands her neck.

what binds her forever to him.

he moves, brushing close as claws rake mud. the morass hums with life around them, but his focus doesn’t waver.

they will see you as their guide, he continues, his voice rough. their shield and their flame. i shall forge them. the gladiator who broke weak men to shape them.