A brown wind swept across the darkened sky, wailing as it passed over the desolate land.
It carried death. It carried emptiness.
The dust it stirred, illuminated by the dim light, resembled fragments of time crushed into mottled, twisted shadows.
The entire world seemed cursed, exuding an aura of utter despair.
The sky was a sheet of ash-black.
Like a massive, oppressive curtain, it hung heavily over the earth, as if it might collapse at any moment, crushing everything into endless darkness.
The air was thick with wisps of anomalous matter, undulating like living tendrils—twisting, entangling, and condensing into a near-solid mist that spread endlessly in all directions.
The earth had long lost its vitality, reduced to a state of decay.
Cracked and fissured, the ground was scarred with ravines of varying depths, like grotesque mouths howling against fate.
Yet life was not entirely absent.
