04 - The Wind that Never Speaks
In the silent places of the world, far beyond the reach of mortal hands, sleeps the wind that never speaks. It slumbers through light and dark, through days and years, never to wake.
It is said that this wind is made up of all the last breaths of the dead, that it keeps all their last words safe and secure, so as to never trouble the world with the pain of hearing the cries, the pain, the remorseful begging or screaming curses.
It lays in the darkest places - waiting, ever waiting - for the day when it will be released into the world once more. A day of reckoning where all the world's woes are brought to bear on the unknowing who dwell 'pon the surface.
It waits for the world's dying breath and will only wake to collect it, covering the world in the very sounds it keeps locked away.
It is called many things - the wind of madness, the evil wind, the black wind, the wind that sleeps, the breath of the world, the endless, the trumpet of death, the whisper of the underworld.
In the end it matters not. It heralds the end of everything and everything meets its end.
