Berserk “Writing The ECLIPSE”

Sun blotted blind on a dystopian dead sea. Evil marching to a tragic Paradise and to a fatal feast. Treacherous seed tearing in blood calling for omen as the sky distorted in faces. Sea turned dry, earth formed screaming mountains and the horror started. Hungry demons above sleepy raw hills are getting closer and closer. To the great nocturnal festival.

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Dusts have memories. And if you can look close enough, they become yours.