It is a kind of decadence, I suppose, with flashes of wretched cities in my head. They do not know how lucky they are to forget, but I suppose they’ve forgotten that too. It is alright to remain void in the face of existence when there is no escaping it. Only I knew in a kernel of my being: it was here – it was close.
Still, it was easier to ignore it, look away. While all the judges of this world are standing by, reveling in their doom, shifting the pieces to fit their perfect vision of things to come. There was a murky understanding, a scant amount of loyalty to it. Still, here, behind the yellow fog in the charnel, festering graveyard of Alkedama, there is none. Only necromancers came and went, wary of becoming cannibalized.