A dark obsession with her frail form, laid upon this table. Eviscerated with surgical precision, lacerated far beyond infinity. A thousand hearts to perish, a million cities to burn experience within existence is defined with fate. The blade brushes the surface of her flesh, her skin crawls with apprehension. Realization of her imminent demise. Reflections of horror begin to fill her eyes. In this world, empires rise and fall, ages come and go. The only thing that
Tisk: