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Dissension of Evil
3D Render by Henry1850The Dissension of Evil: Embers of Reckoning
The Dissension of Evil had fractured the ancient pact—an uneasy truce forged in the shadows of forgotten realms. The old ones, beings of primordial malice, understood the necessity of balance. Chaos without order was a fire that consumed even its masters. But the younger forces, born of rage and ambition, had no patience for restraint. They wanted carnage. They wanted dominion. They wanted war.
Among them, none burned brighter—or darker—than Medea, the Bloodfire Sorceress. Once a high priestess of the Infernal Accord, she had severed all ties to diplomacy. Her skin glowed with molten veins, her eyes twin furnaces of wrath. She had tasted the blood of a thousand worlds, and now Earth—naive, fragile, and blissfully unaware—was next.
She descended not with stealth, but with spectacle. Cities ignited at her arrival. Oceans boiled. The sky itself cracked open as her firestorms swept across continents. Her voice echoed through the minds of billions: But the old ones stirred. Not out of mercy—but fear. Earth was not defenseless. It was a crucible. A place where light had once risen so fiercely it had scorched the feet of gods.
The Forgotten Pact
Deep beneath the ruins of an ancient temple in the Peruvian Andes, a seal broke. Not one forged by evil—but by a coalition of forgotten guardians. Medea’s fury had awakened The Hollow Flame, a dormant force neither good nor evil, but balance incarnate. It had no face, no mercy, and no allegiance. It was born from the ashes of past wars, and it had one purpose: to extinguish unchecked power.
As Medea stood triumphant atop the charred remains of New York, a silence fell. Her flames flickered. Her blood began to cool. And from the shadows, a figure emerged—cloaked in obsidian mist, eyes like dying stars. It spoke not in words, but in memory. Medea saw herself—young, mortal, terrified. She saw the moment she chose power over purpose. And she screamed.
The Hollow Flame did not fight her. It unmade her.
And so the Dissension of Evil became a reckoning. Not just for the young forces, but for the old ones too. For in their arrogance, they had forgotten: Earth is not a battleground. It is a mirror. And every evil that touches it must face its own reflection.
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Created with Daz Studio and post work in Affinity Photo
IMPORTANT NOTICE Property of HENRY1850. Copying or using in AI Scripting or references is STRICTLY Forbidden! None of my artworks are permitted to be used as NFT's. All rights reserved. This work may NOT BE reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without written permission from HENRY1850. This work does not belong to the public domain. If you have doubts about this matter, please feel free to direct message HENRY1850.
The Dissension of Evil had fractured the ancient pact—an uneasy truce forged in the shadows of forgotten realms. The old ones, beings of primordial malice, understood the necessity of balance. Chaos without order was a fire that consumed even its masters. But the younger forces, born of rage and ambition, had no patience for restraint. They wanted carnage. They wanted dominion. They wanted war.
Among them, none burned brighter—or darker—than Medea, the Bloodfire Sorceress. Once a high priestess of the Infernal Accord, she had severed all ties to diplomacy. Her skin glowed with molten veins, her eyes twin furnaces of wrath. She had tasted the blood of a thousand worlds, and now Earth—naive, fragile, and blissfully unaware—was next.
She descended not with stealth, but with spectacle. Cities ignited at her arrival. Oceans boiled. The sky itself cracked open as her firestorms swept across continents. Her voice echoed through the minds of billions: But the old ones stirred. Not out of mercy—but fear. Earth was not defenseless. It was a crucible. A place where light had once risen so fiercely it had scorched the feet of gods.
The Forgotten Pact
Deep beneath the ruins of an ancient temple in the Peruvian Andes, a seal broke. Not one forged by evil—but by a coalition of forgotten guardians. Medea’s fury had awakened The Hollow Flame, a dormant force neither good nor evil, but balance incarnate. It had no face, no mercy, and no allegiance. It was born from the ashes of past wars, and it had one purpose: to extinguish unchecked power.
As Medea stood triumphant atop the charred remains of New York, a silence fell. Her flames flickered. Her blood began to cool. And from the shadows, a figure emerged—cloaked in obsidian mist, eyes like dying stars. It spoke not in words, but in memory. Medea saw herself—young, mortal, terrified. She saw the moment she chose power over purpose. And she screamed.
The Hollow Flame did not fight her. It unmade her.
And so the Dissension of Evil became a reckoning. Not just for the young forces, but for the old ones too. For in their arrogance, they had forgotten: Earth is not a battleground. It is a mirror. And every evil that touches it must face its own reflection.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created with Daz Studio and post work in Affinity Photo
IMPORTANT NOTICE Property of HENRY1850. Copying or using in AI Scripting or references is STRICTLY Forbidden! None of my artworks are permitted to be used as NFT's. All rights reserved. This work may NOT BE reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without written permission from HENRY1850. This work does not belong to the public domain. If you have doubts about this matter, please feel free to direct message HENRY1850.
Affinity Photo
Daz Studio
