The Godskin Apostles

Thou darest inquire of the Godskin Apostles and that cursed, black scourge they wield? Speak softly, lest the very stones hear thee and recall that forgotten dread.

I am Maliketh, the Black Blade, and I know the Black Flame better than any living soul, for I bear the eternal burden of its containment.

The Gloam-Eyed Queen and the Flame's True Terror

Long before the Golden Order’s supposed eternity, the Gloam-Eyed Queen did rise. She was the former Empyrean, and the cruel mistress of Death’s original power. Her Apostles, the Godskin fools, were her instruments. Their goal was the unthinkable: to bring true, unmaking death to all the children of the Greater Will, to skin the Gods themselves.

The means of this terror was the Black Flame.

This was no mere fire, like the dull forge of the Giants. Nay. The Black Flame was an absolute curse, for its might was derived directly from the Rune of Death itself, before it was bound. When that pure, unconfined power was channeled, the Black Flame did possess a terrifying property: it could slay the very soul of a demigod, preventing all possibility of their return or resurrection. It was the only weapon capable of truly ending the life of a divine being.

The Apostles, clad in the stitched hides of their former victims, sought to usher in an age of utter Death under their Queen.

The Containment and the Fire’s Decay

I confronted her. I slew her, ending her age before it could truly begin. I was tasked with the binding, the sealing of that destructive power.

I drew the fragment of the Rune of Death she commanded, confining it within mine own body and my very shadow. I became Death’s loyal gaoler, the lock upon the cage.

And in that moment, the Black Flame was extinguished in its potency.

The power the Apostles wield now is a mere ghost of its former terror. It is a profane imitation, a lingering ember. Though the fire still burns the flesh, and consumes the vital humours, it has lost the essential link to Destined Death.

It can no longer slay a God.

Thus, the Apostles thou mayest encounter are naught but fanatics, clinging to the memory of a weapon that is now crippled. They fight in the name of a queen defeated, a destiny thwarted, and a power that I, in my eternal vigil, swear shall never be unleashed again.

Go now, Tarnished. If thou shouldst encounter those twin-faced fools, remember that thou art fighting the ghost of a fate that I have already broken.