A flower of snakes, a brown crown made of Nothing that destroys any human feeling, leaving only some scat of agonizing larvas. Heaven is falling, hard clouds of uranium blossom in this bloody night of phantoms.

Broken glasses everywhere. Ruins of a Byzantine Palace, mosaic pavements destroyed by abandon, destroyed by Abaddon.

Frozen alien corpses, deep in a remote permafrost. Their eyes are like basalt stones, spreading the Black Light of Feyaden, leading to madness any human being who dares to stare their evershining darkness.

Fractals of hopeless estinction are growing within my multiple eyes, pitchblack poisonous seals.

A grey star spits rays of damnation upon the subhuman breed that survives on a moribund stony planet around it.

Balamir's hair is a wide ocean of blue electric worms, dark as intergalactic space. The man who falls into this maelstrom of ghastly serpents is annihilated: what remains of his soul is only a fistful of dying flies.

Demonic atoms of endless pain, dissolving the inner being of the victim like a fly devoured by an abyssal spider, quantum by quantum.

Colourless ghosts, vague forms without soul sinking into Hades. Venom, agony, ontological death forever. Murky flowers of horror, showing a neverending rain of immortal blades.

The murder of a crystal, a frame of devouring worms burnt by fire and ice in the deepest pit of thralldom. I hear blurred words pronounced by cancerous trolls, I feel the God of Plague growing inside their gangrene hearts!

A spell of Gale! Muspell is coming onwards, bringing echoes of distortion and essential death in the shape of a diamond.