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the temple coruscates of voices, of the selfish and sullen. i can feel
them breathing down my neck, my blackened heart cant save me now. the
force at work is unbeknownst to me, but it’s crushing my chest and taking
over me. soon to desecrate and swallow survivors, this must be… this is
power, this is hatred in it’s truest form. broken down and coupled with
possession of the weak and the willing to suffer. survival rests upon the
shoulders of I. but echoes taunt me, silence haunts me and they’re getting
closer. wasting hours as i cower here, am i the last one left? the temple
coruscates of screams, of the dead and devoured. i can see the blood drip
from my blade, it seems my blackened heart has saved me now.