DarkenHeight
The flickering span of Iridescence arcs across the morning sky. Long seeping rays of crimson and flowing orange decorated the grasslands and meadows, Moors and woodlens, Cliffs and mountains with its shimmering incandescence. Sifting breeze's blow from the north and east, ghosting towards the south and west, long and wiry twigs from willows and elms sent spiraling within the wind. Foliage wafting on the edge of the cyclonic currents. Deeply intoned, a whistle barks its call towards the dusking skyline, echoing to the farthest reaches and back again.
Darkness slowly begins to fall, ethereal and gentle within its Masquerade of a curtain call. Stretching from the farthest heights above, reaching from the tip of each mountain to the lengths of every red wood.
It falls.
DarkenHeight.
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