The Apocalypse: Winter Is Coming

Blood blankets the entire sacred land. You awaken from the wasteland, your body covered in thick, sticky blood, the final blade of the apocalypse in your hand.

The rain instantly soaks your silver robe. Black seawater surges in, and waves roll in layer upon layer of corpses. The continent lies deserted, while scattered refugees** plead endlessly at the temple. Beneath the colossal statue, pious yet greedy mortals kneel in droves.

You make your way down the broad streets. Every building is destroyed in an instant. The statue slowly opens its scarlet eyes, and its sharp fangs are like a row of gleaming daggers.

He is the last deity, the sole hope of the apocalypse.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.