The Land of Broken Sky

He of Infinite Aspects embodies every god ever prayed to, even those yet undiscovered. While most of His Aspects are benevolent, well-satisfied with the prayers of Earth’s populace, there are others less noble: horrible, extraterrestrial deities conforming to insane geometries, dedicated to the eradication of humanity.

When different Aspects clash, Apocalypse follows.

Brothers Savior and Sansu have been selected as avatars of Armageddon. While Savior fights for a New Jerusalem, a sanctified city of extraordinary dimensions and spiritual restoration, Sansu seeks a mangled, depopulated planet, from which a new species of living nightmares shall spring. To assist in their efforts, each recruits Apostles, including body jumpers, abdominal-eyed children, locust-bodied hybrids, silicon-structured blood guzzlers, voluntary quadruple amputees, and even a sumo-wrestling clown magician.

In a time of multi-limbed monstrosities, rampaging Omnisoul Angels, and unceasing blood precipitation, can Savior’s group ensure humanity’s survival? Or will Sansu’s cancerous deity prove victorious, to the detriment of all mankind? When the sky shatters, and every scientific principle is rendered invalid, all bets are off.

Amidst a ring of Druidic columns, the lamb sits atop an obsidian altar, resting a book on his lap. Older than known history, the tome is written in the language of angels, upon pages that are neither paper nor rock, though they evoke both materials. Seven glistening seals keep the book tightly clasped, seals that can only be split by the lamb.

At the altar’s base, a green-skinned monstrosity lies prone, dead yet nondecaying. In lieu of a torso, the creature has but one massive hand—red-nailed fingers functioning as its legs—with a gargantuan, purple-lipped noggin sprouting from the wrist. Within this main countenance, smaller faces are embedded, vacantly glaring through unclosing eyes. A shredded tubular neck attests to another cranium’s absence, the amputation a probable cause of death. The lamb raises one foreleg and crashes it down, obliterating the first of the seals. The ground begins trembling. Like reverse lightning, radiant veins shoot from the soil to the sky.

From the freshly charged atmosphere, four beings coalesce: giants, each standing three stories tall. One takes the form of a man; another appears as a lion. The third resembles a calf, and the fourth an eagle. Each behemoth is inlaid with eyes—dozens of them, running from their scalps to the bases of their legs. Such oculi can peer into and beyond the past, present and future, yet for now, all focus upon the lamb.

Paying their multi-orbed scrutiny no heed, he shatters the second seal, followed by the third. The trembling increases; still his foreleg smashes down…again and again and again. From the honeycombed hillsides, men and women begin streaming, their courses converging at the altar. Toothless, drooling and hairless, these dazed unfortunates encircle the columns. Rending their robes, they voice inarticulate yelps, attempting music. Some play flutes carved from yellowed bones.

Before his reverent audience, the lamb fragments the final seal. Responsively, the ground ceases its shuddering. With a gentle hoof, he opens the volume. As its freed luminescence saturates his countenance, the lamb begins reading aloud. Here is his pronouncement…

THE LAND OF BROKEN SKY