‘On your last day on earth, the person you became will meet the person you could have become.’
It had been seven winters since The Dark, and while a pile of blistered corpses melted underneath a sky of swirling brains, a kind once residing in the shade have stepped in to light. Through the green canopy, meandering flames fanned a crescent moon, admiring its vast void with earth. Like the wolves that bask in its luminescent glow, a shoal of twisting fingers pulse to a legion of drums. Now that the heights of trees had exceeded everything beyond that of concrete and steel, the temptation to scale the boundaries of mankind’s previous ambitions was one only jaded by the storm of bodies that had fallen from the sky. There were no more signals to blister the air above or tyrants to ravage occupied lands, only a relenting song of melancholy to echo through the streets of civilisation. Amongst the many illusions performed by mankind, his greatest exploits were those concealed behind the precarious veils of virtue.
The first, Prudence, was a great centrepiece to dress the table of humanity, an assertive voice to silence and console the population during unprecedented financial turmoil. Though this only seemed to last as long as the cloak and dagger of outed politicians and high society which had benefitted an inception of hierarchical reform under a faceless flag. Mankind’s ship became the vessel of judgement day amidst a maelstrom sea of mother nature, it’s shrieking hull crumbled what remained of life under a thunderous sky, soon to be sinking with the hopes of his ancestors and dreams of his children. Prudence provided logic to an illogical disparity from human evolution, a mutation of insight to our primitive disposition, one that echoes in the warped bones of mammals who came before us.