The sky was growing dark. White clouds turning grey with pinkish underbellies. The sky itself was turning red as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. Trees of luscious canopies shed long shadows and their colors dimmed in the falling light.

It was not long until the heavens turned black, but the stars were not to be seen. What few clouds there were shone like the grey scale of burning logs. Soon, in the pitch of sky one, white star came to glow bright. The horizon bloomed with light once again. That light flickered in deep oranges and brilliant yellows. Yet the sun did not come to rise again

What were grey clouds so too turned black as they began to burn in the sky, backlit by roiling flame. Another star light up. White flakes began to fall upon the ground. Yet they were not frigid as snow, but were instead warm as they pelted the trees. Leaves from far off canopies lit up in great blazes. And a third star graced the sky.

Soon the grasses dried into grey strands of ash. The flakes continued to fall upon the land. Trees were burnt into rough, carbon stunts of what their once great statures stood. Branches and leaves were burnt up to the sky, never to be seen lain upon the forest floor. Thickets and bushes were at best writhing on the ground as snakes made of embers.

Then more stars flashed into the sky. It was not the myriad of constellations that came to view, but only that of one figure. Two, long horns, straight as hewn charcoal pens, were bent up at a perfect corner on their ends. Below the brutally level mantle of horns was a sharp, angular face that came to a needle-head point.

The air began to sizzle from the nearby burning trees and the hot pouring ash. A thick pad of grey covered the ground. The excess dusts of the lands and skies that burned. Of the stars a spindly, emaciated body formed. Utterly thin and long fingers reached out across the sky. They pinched and pulled away one of the clouds that burned asunder. Behind it shone the silver moon which cooled the land with its gentle light. But the fingers wrapped around it and, ever so slowly, perhaps it went for days, they dragged it through the sky.

The triangular like head of the great entity raised its sharp chin. Silver light of the ever encroaching moon did not keep it from piercing the meat of the heavenly body. Shadow enraptured the once blissful light of the last hope. Cracks, or tendrils, spread across the moon itself before it was devoured in its entirety. The only lights left to brighten the heavy shade were the burning clouds and the flickering fires of the horizon.