The Sacred

Pestilence and ruins

Pestilence has infected my temples. It plagues the chapels that once provided sanctuary. My skies have begun smoldering, and my fields of orange and gold, which were once soft and warm, have become ruins. Decrepit, dark, and desolate. Ash clings to my skin, like a blistering kiss. I can do nothing but watch as my kingdom surrenders to the confrontation of my fray.