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𝐀 𝐊 𝐊 𝐇 𝐀 𝐍🥀
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Wednesday 05 August 2026 17:43:18 GMT
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amir.hamza.khan35
Amir hamza Khan3556 :
2026-08-10 18:25:37
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mohammadnabibahad
Manankhan313 :
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2026-08-17 17:22:30
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user016415884
Ali Hassan :
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2026-08-17 02:31:49
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da_mor_oshkay
꧁🥀 د مور اوښکې* 🥀꧂ :
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2026-08-14 16:54:33
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basir.bambari
Mujreem Afridi302 :
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has4645
DK 👑 :
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2026-08-14 07:12:30
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nabiullah.haqmal1
Nabiullah Haqmal :
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2026-08-14 05:49:27
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user2142696145303
user2142696145303 :
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2026-08-13 09:40:25
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ignbg.cbdjy
☠️💀💪🦾خاکسار پشتو🚔🚓⭐️🔥 :
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2026-08-13 09:40:02
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kamran.ahmad5473
kamran ahmad :
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azizkhan3401
azizkhan3401 :
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samibacha276
سمیع اسحاق باچا :
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user5666743662520
امید کریمی :
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2026-08-12 18:56:51
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user52061063167973
user52061063167973 :
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2026-08-12 05:23:00
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user8270869130574
یوزاشیان :
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shamsurrhman.agha
Shamsurrhman agha :
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2026-08-11 04:05:38
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mpfayazkhan50
🍁فیاض خان💫 :
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2026-08-10 07:50:31
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ameertheboss.amee
AMEER*THe*boss** AMEER*THe*bos :
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2026-08-10 04:00:55
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userua4zrsf2ni
user69990774777 :
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2026-08-09 14:27:40
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user5300836167983
قاهم جان :
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2026-08-08 05:05:02
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user200304229
Imran Khan official :
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2026-08-08 04:47:28
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hasan.qurbani3
Hasan Qurbani :
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2026-08-05 17:48:25
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Pyyra was fair, Pyyra was charming, Pyyra was cheerful, Pyyra was warm-hearted, Pyyra was understanding, Pyyra was clever, Pyyra was strong, Pyyra was self-assured, Pyyra was confident, Pyyra was resolute, Pyyra laid down the law, Pyyra went his own way, Pyyra was enlightened, Pyyra would not listen, Pyyra sought to be right, Pyyra was always right, Pyyra looked down upon others, Pyyra was scornful, Pyyra had grown selfish, Pyyra was indifferent, Pyyra was arrogant, Pyyra was egotistical, Pyyra had turned cruel, Pyyra had grown consumed by ambition; the very moment Pyyra lost control, he plunged his dagger into the serpentine body of Şemsāwel, a deed he himself could not condone, one that left a bitter, burning sensation in his throat. Şemsāwel let out such an agonizing shriek, cried out like a piece of flesh torn raw from the body, that even Ankaūt the Unifier severed its web. As Şemsāwel’s bronzed sun-face began to weep tar, Pyyra’s heart ceased to pump blood and cursed him. Pyyra’s throat closed up, no! He was going to apologize, he was going to beg! But the strings within his throat intertwined, rendering him quieter than a mute, making him far more silent. Pyyra’s pupil had become the witness, his heart the sacrificial victim, his mind the transgressor. No, Pyyra... Pyyra does not make mistakes. He was the amadeus, carved by the very light of Everything and Nothingness. Pyyra could not be wrong, could not be, would not be… Şemsāwel was pleading, and Pyyra was trying to silence him by squeezing his body with his bare hands, wishing to flay his skin. You shall be silent! Even if your flesh burns to its very core, you shall be silent! Şemsāwel’s weeping of tar poured down unto Pyyra’s wrists, making him appear all the more monstrous. Samael arrived. Two brothers sharing the selfsame light. First, he delivered Şemsāwel from him; then he drew forth the dagger, severed Pyyra’s light to strip it from his hands, and tore away the veil that made him who he was. Samael’s oval feathers, each the size of an entire realm, cast Pyyra away, and he fell into the yellow exile... Covered in tar up to his wrists that would never wash away, Pyyra fell into Lapsival, his hair, which but a moment ago was fiery red, now dyed in pitch black. The Yellow Exile Lapsival, where only yellow and black reside. A twist of the divine comedy. Pyyra recounted to N’ūhar that he had lived through these events two sun-lifetimes ago. Yellow soil, yellow air, a yellow realm. Here dwell those like Pyyra, and here dwell those far more terrifying than Pyyra. Whatever decision you make in this realm, there exists a endless chain of events that never grants peace to the fallen. Pyyra recounted that since falling here, the only innocent thing he had ever witnessed were particles of dust. Now Pyyra is merely a vagator wandering aimlessly, striving to survive, pointing the way. The Yellow Exile is a place built by the ancient arrogant nations, where ruins remain, some small, others as towering as mountains. While some regions are nothing more than flat soil, other areas possess geologically unimaginable formations. Chaos and war reign supreme here. Since death does not exist in this place, while there are those who have been fighting, burning, and destroying since the day they first fell, a rare few like Pyyra walk in silence, going wherever the road leads them. One of the sole things that makes the Yellow Exile beautiful is the frequently occurring meteor showers and the eclipses that, though gloomy, grow beautiful as one accustoms to them. (And yes, I wrote this whole story.) #darkfantasy #storytelling #fyp #foryou #lore
Pyyra was fair, Pyyra was charming, Pyyra was cheerful, Pyyra was warm-hearted, Pyyra was understanding, Pyyra was clever, Pyyra was strong, Pyyra was self-assured, Pyyra was confident, Pyyra was resolute, Pyyra laid down the law, Pyyra went his own way, Pyyra was enlightened, Pyyra would not listen, Pyyra sought to be right, Pyyra was always right, Pyyra looked down upon others, Pyyra was scornful, Pyyra had grown selfish, Pyyra was indifferent, Pyyra was arrogant, Pyyra was egotistical, Pyyra had turned cruel, Pyyra had grown consumed by ambition; the very moment Pyyra lost control, he plunged his dagger into the serpentine body of Şemsāwel, a deed he himself could not condone, one that left a bitter, burning sensation in his throat. Şemsāwel let out such an agonizing shriek, cried out like a piece of flesh torn raw from the body, that even Ankaūt the Unifier severed its web. As Şemsāwel’s bronzed sun-face began to weep tar, Pyyra’s heart ceased to pump blood and cursed him. Pyyra’s throat closed up, no! He was going to apologize, he was going to beg! But the strings within his throat intertwined, rendering him quieter than a mute, making him far more silent. Pyyra’s pupil had become the witness, his heart the sacrificial victim, his mind the transgressor. No, Pyyra... Pyyra does not make mistakes. He was the amadeus, carved by the very light of Everything and Nothingness. Pyyra could not be wrong, could not be, would not be… Şemsāwel was pleading, and Pyyra was trying to silence him by squeezing his body with his bare hands, wishing to flay his skin. You shall be silent! Even if your flesh burns to its very core, you shall be silent! Şemsāwel’s weeping of tar poured down unto Pyyra’s wrists, making him appear all the more monstrous. Samael arrived. Two brothers sharing the selfsame light. First, he delivered Şemsāwel from him; then he drew forth the dagger, severed Pyyra’s light to strip it from his hands, and tore away the veil that made him who he was. Samael’s oval feathers, each the size of an entire realm, cast Pyyra away, and he fell into the yellow exile... Covered in tar up to his wrists that would never wash away, Pyyra fell into Lapsival, his hair, which but a moment ago was fiery red, now dyed in pitch black. The Yellow Exile Lapsival, where only yellow and black reside. A twist of the divine comedy. Pyyra recounted to N’ūhar that he had lived through these events two sun-lifetimes ago. Yellow soil, yellow air, a yellow realm. Here dwell those like Pyyra, and here dwell those far more terrifying than Pyyra. Whatever decision you make in this realm, there exists a endless chain of events that never grants peace to the fallen. Pyyra recounted that since falling here, the only innocent thing he had ever witnessed were particles of dust. Now Pyyra is merely a vagator wandering aimlessly, striving to survive, pointing the way. The Yellow Exile is a place built by the ancient arrogant nations, where ruins remain, some small, others as towering as mountains. While some regions are nothing more than flat soil, other areas possess geologically unimaginable formations. Chaos and war reign supreme here. Since death does not exist in this place, while there are those who have been fighting, burning, and destroying since the day they first fell, a rare few like Pyyra walk in silence, going wherever the road leads them. One of the sole things that makes the Yellow Exile beautiful is the frequently occurring meteor showers and the eclipses that, though gloomy, grow beautiful as one accustoms to them. (And yes, I wrote this whole story.) #darkfantasy #storytelling #fyp #foryou #lore

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