The ground shook….and the darkness gave way.
Some were to achieve immortality, some were to fall immeasurably.
They came, they lived among us, they fought and loved and died, and their advent became the theme of the bards:
“Wings over strings, the symphony sings
of double bass deserts of Grey.
Metallic the melodies meld in the moonlight,
and wait for the dawn of the day.
The Angels will rise, with thorns in their eyes,
come hear what the roses proclaim.
As the blood runs black, there's no turning back,
from Light tearing the horizon away.”
Now their tales will be told. Now the secrets unearthed, on the grandest of scales. As the troubadours collect in the shadows, they will begin to reveal how From Light Rose the Angels. [+]
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