("Flowers Beneath A Starless Sky" is a prologue story for the game, written in the same style as the lore you'll be discovering in-game.)
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II. S T R E N G T H
You flex your power with eager focus. From the dirt, a blood red thistle grows and rises defiant. You grasp the bloom and look within.
Your thoughts are pulled to a salt-white battlefield. Clattering metal and thundering steps. An army stands between you and a dark tower rising in the distance. You know you must reach it, and nothing will stand in your way.
The army marches. You tighten your fist, wicked steel in your grasp, and plant your heels. Alone. You are always alone. You will not run.
One falls. Then ten. A hundred. The ground stains crimson in your wake. An army stood; an army fell.
The tower nears, one last foe standing in your path. A goliath wreathed in shadow looms with a twisted grin. To fell it would take ten thousand cuts; it could end you in one. You raise your sword and march on.
It swats you away with ease. Tumbling, scraping, ground into the dirt. And the giant laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
Your fist clenches. The sky turns red, the horizon jagged. The world blurs as you rise to your feet, everything turned to vague smudges and wild streaks. You charge, howling like a beast, forcing your foe to taste your blade.
You strike again and again, cutting and carving, until your blade falls away, so you rip and you tear and you gnaw and you laugh—
You pluck the flower with a shudder. A peerless warrior, powerful and fierce, yet skin like fractured glass. Spite and resentment churn beneath the surface, begging to be free. All too easy they would fall to cunning, goaded to careless fury.
This one cannot save the sky.