The tired sun finally decieded to crawl back beneath the horizon. Like a dieing man, wounded and without a will to live, it bleeds its gorish red light upon the landscape.
White clouds get soaked into the bleeding suns light, turning red themselves, losing their purity, becoming corrupt and full of sin. Drifting towards a place they, themselves, don’t know. Drifting slowly towards the ground, towards hell.
Immortal Mountains stand tall and bathe in this dark light, enjoying the bitter cold snow, while the surface just like a mirror borrows the color of the weakend star floating above it.
Blood red light shines everywhere…
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