What washed up on shores was hopeless. What washed up on shores took the earth and shook it to the core then made it motionless. Now the lands where the ocean is. And it's filled with saturn worshippers.
My home of eden, abused and beaten. Over a couple free men. When there's nothing to breath in, maybe they'll see then. A scilloet left of their own de-mons. Some self reflection of a heathen.
Maybe in death is healing...?