"Ancient things shown to the surface. Drenched in murk and soot. Composing the cries...forever. Weeping in the shadows. In Belial's ode the children surfaced from the brine. With fragments of skull all around. In synchrony they began tuning their whispers. The wind took its final breathe. Though hearts, mind, body and eyes. As the leaves stuck to the empty temples. Scents of petrichor then, and now smoke. Their vessels drowned completely within their darkness."
( The Dark Alamort )
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