The night exhales it's orchestra into the blue kingdom.
A fetid reminder of how bleak and lonely the anti-day becomes.
Their grand mausoleum filled with smog,
the atmosphere, now a stagnant display left only as stark reminder to the Lich.
Melancholy croons and groans pollute the air about him, leaving him ossified.
A faint memory blooms in his skull.
That of ebony wings and the green and black fl...
