Even in Crimson

Even in Crimson

            It was born in flames. The gentle wind that rolled through the open window and lifted the pedals and danced with the blades of grass came from arches of fire tall as the sky is wide. Forged in steel and ancient weapons carved of beasts and bones wielded by soldiers engraved with a dark, unforgivable power. All of this was born in sacrifice, born in slaughter, born in fire.

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