The light retreated as he stepped forward from the shadows

Recoiling away like the hand from a poisonous snake

Casting the world in a semi-luminous glow of a crimson washed patina

He struck a bell seven times to announce his arrival

With every strike the sound became less pronounced; distant

Until at the end of the seventh, ghostly silence reigned supreme

As he moved the air started to sizzle, the energy overwhelming

An oppressive heat boiling the air itself into a darkened conflagration

The stench of decay followed in his footsteps, putrid and wretched

Life held its last breath begging with eyes pleading for lights return