Come compromise.

It would not.

Call strife.

It arrived too easily.


“These traps are killing us my lord!”

“I order you to survive.” said Icarian.

And they fought on.

Through 190 corridors, day and night.


Reinforcements came and they also took the blue.

Fort yielded, its secrets revealed to them like the insides of sediment.

They were pangs of water gnashing at its man-made foundations.


The builders had been monsters too.


“It was quite a sight to see all these hopeless united at the God-Foundry.”

- Iljun


Come Blood-Drinkers.

They stayed their sound.

Call embrace.

It was harder to reach.


Picture - from the pages of polich tallix fine art foundry

I challenge with lucky number 13 "Diaspore". Have fun!

For those who like beginnings. For those who must start somewhere. Beginnings of the beginning