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CHAPTER 13
O F D E S O L A T E S K I E S
AND
V I O L E N T S U N S
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❧
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Somewhere in the night, another tragedy trembles in the skies.
The thick and heavy clouds of smoke and ink roll into the small city as if to separate the earth from the heavens. A slow, creeping darkness licks its path through the night sky. Like ink in water, its obsidian tongue slithers between the crevices in the stars.
Carefully, it begins eating away at the little speckles of light, one by one. Devouring. Ravaging. Piece by piece the pale gold stars cease in their existence. Until there is nothing left but a devastate sky, devoid of good and distilled in evil.
And ever so gently, the darkness caresses the skin of the cosmos, its desirable touch malicious yet sweeter than ichor. Seductive and persuasive, the darkness savors the taste of chaos on its lips. The intoxicating taste of decaying flesh and coppery warm blood. The sticky, heavy stench of the broken and deceased coating the atmosphere. The feeling of crushed bones and ash running through its fingers.
No, the darkness does not simply crave destruction. It hungers for it.
And so the clever darkness continues to stroke the heaven's skin with the grace of an angel, before tearing through its lovely pale gold heart.
