The boy climbed down to the
farthest land, with a girl living, not breathing. Nothing there died long as
gardens grew. He lamented to a lonely god in the temple of bones, and called
for the prohibited art.
“Dormin” spoke – of her life anew, of
black-blooded beasts.
“Life
comes with a price.”
He scoped the dirge of slippery
sands, the knight of dead earth, the hammer of keeled beginnings, the ox of
dark footings, the crackle of underwater thunderings:
They all fell to the boy of the
farthest land.
They all fell to the ground.
Dormin was appeased - long lost
sanity on a forked tongue.
The boy hit the floor, erupting
in corruption.
Faltered gardens halt, his heart
stops.
The girl lived, but life comes
with a price.
Dormin moved to a smaller home of
bones.
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