WITHIN ENTRAILS DEVOURED BY PUTRID WINDS

A miasma of rot hangs heavy in the heavens, thick with the reek of death. The wind, a fetid serpent, violently around the mangled corpses, ripping flesh from bone. The bones gleam like pearls in the morbid twilight. A symphony of screams echoes through the valley, a chorus of suffering as the entrails are devoured by the vortex of oblivion. This i