Thalassotélos — XI

That day, it was a massacre. In all its glory, in every sense of the word, pain, misery, hatred and twisted joy came together in an accursed amalgamation.

Like the wicked claws of fate, the unforgiving scythe of looming death, the falling tears of the weeping sky, inextinguishable fire ravaged the battlefield; turning the place into a true hell of suffering.

Sky high flames towered over the living, the dancing ambers waltzing over anything and everything, leaving nothing but silent screams and blackened cinders in their wake.

As for whether the cinders were of trees, of mute plants or the fallen bodies of people smouldering alive or dead; it was unknown.

The flames caught a dragon, the flames caught a tiger, in their fiery embrace, the waves of pyre, scorching tongues of promised death engulfed the monkey.