Enderal:Blood Moon
- Abandoned Prison
- The Drunken Bee
I dreamt of the Blood Moon.
Sorrowfully, he sat on his majestic throne amidst the firmament, overseeing the desolate countryside with his tear-filled eyes. The soft red — with which he covered fields and meadows as the layer-out would cover a pale child — and the crimson blanket of velvet and oblivion bedewed my soul like the shadows of those long, pale trees, their bleak faces forever in defiance of the endless breeze.
I feel as if a part of me died the moment I beheld the unnatural moonlight die away on the ground. This foreignness in the familiar, this unfounded melancholia, this yearning for places faraway, for impossible architecture, for all things unhuman and incomprehensible, for things threatening to erase my sanity. All of this only because of the moon, the moon who sat up there as if he was an age-old child, sallow and pale like a long forgotten corpse.
I dreamt of the Blood Moon.
