A destroyed moon lay dispersed across the sky. Its fragments reflected a pale, red light. In front of these debris, a great multitude of meteors reached the atmosphere, raining across the land in streaks of flame. Concussions resounded in every direction that amplified the pandemonium of this planet’s final hours.
“Sidideris desiterkan durs forlektis,” my master proclaimed as he reveled in these grandiose moments of destruction. He revealed his speared teeth while smiling. As he did so, he flipped his long, red tongue just outside of his lips. His bare, burgundy, muscular chest flexed with approval. Veins rippled throughout his upper body and arms at their height hundreds of yards off the ground. One, lone eye sat as a gaping black hole within his face and oscillating, flaccid flesh made sounds of suction and popping as it churned across the top of his head.
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THE DARK VERSE, VOL. 3: BEYOND THE GRIP OF TIME
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