The Walled City
I stand on a bridge. Alone. A city that would seem to bustle now stays silent. Below me, a glimmering giant crashes against the crumbling stone of the bridge that holds me. White horses with tossing manes like snow and ice gallop with harsh hooves and batter the low wall that barricade the galloping army from entering the walled city. The low wall attempts to be imperious as it stands against the edge of the citadel, though far studier than the place it protects, it fails.
The city beyond the wall crumbles.
The perhaps once mighty structures now stand weakened and worn in the dying daylight. Though the sound of the waves crushing the rock ceases a little, it still ricochets against the thin walls and hisses its last though the dimly lit streets. One building stands high above the rest; a towering steeple casts a delicate shadow over the city beneath, blackening everything unfortunate enough to fall beneath it. It reaches high as a herald to the heavens. The heavens themselves are fast blackening. Darkness is rolling in from the hills. Soon, it will be night. Let the masquerade begin.
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