Under the moonlight, the cold mist swallowed the spires of Holy Seat City.
Moonlight flowed from the frozen battlements, pouring out mercury-silver coldness until it was crushed into the ground by the vampires flying in.
The war flag of Cancun shrieked like torn silk in the north wind.
The granite and little skeletons catapulted out, screaming like meteors striking the dome of the Pope's Palace.
The gold leaf peeled away in an avalanche under the heavy strike, revealing the rotten black wooden framework inside.
A millennium of faith was torn open, revealing its withered ribs.
Monks knelt in this thousand-year-old Holy Hall, hands clasped together, praying with a devotion never seen before.
Tears, sweat, and despairing blood streamed down their heads and necks, mingling like a brook flowing on the splendid floor of the hall.
