As the melody died away; as the golden notes of melancholia faded into the night, the prophets heard footsteps coming up behind them.

In came the regal Prophet of Fidelity, smiling as she entered the hall and announced:

“I have met the whore and the gentleman rogue you speak about. I have kissed them and whispered messages meant for their ears alone but they heeded me not.

They could not hear me though I was closer to them than their own heartbeat.

Friends… a toast to the blind, the mute and the deaf.

Why we try time and again to touch their souls I do not know; they have become cold like the frigid winds of winter.”, and they burst into laughter for none of them can feel the bite of the wind.

A gathering of long lost friends, time cannot touch them here and none who are present are mortal.
The beast was here all along…


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Diary of a Broken Soul
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