Blood lashes in the rain as the wind buffeted the Plains of Detritus.
Fetid smells plagued the air in torrents of swirling effluence.
The red moon shone beyond the bending and bowing trees slashing the horizon.
A lone figure stood awash in the downpour yet firmly unaffected by the gale.
"Stay" said the statue.
Unmoving in his conviction that all trespassers be swept away with the storm.
White lighting struck the ground mere feet from his outstretched palm.
The explosion reaping a cacophony of destruction resulting in smoldering craters.
Glare obstructed the morosity but did little to extinguish the rotten fumes of death.
As sight regained clarity another flash lit the scene to reveal a writhing mass
Emerging from the rent earth like the oscillating arms of a millipede.
"Come closer" said the Devil.
In a blink a thousand wails descended on the land.
Baring teeth and grabbing hands.
Reaching...
Reaching...
To grab hold of the light of the last soul holding claim to its life.
Stubborn, it resists the touch of darkness by force of will alone.
Until even the last spark of hope became entangled within the putrid hellscape,
Winking out of existence and forgotten;
Consumed by evil.
"Such is the price of the blood moon" cackled the fallen angel.