Scarlet wolves (white before sunset) howled from peaks of frozen mountains, chanting the twin full moons dream-song, beckoning the inevitable collision between light and darkness. Hordes of white crows swarmed from fading twilight to the heavens above and over pitch black oceans on the horizon. In perpetual trance, dancing with finesse to the bewitching melody of the blackest night as it descended upon Alpha Illum on icy wings, triumphant.
Deep below, lies eternal abyss with its harassing thousand eyes, ever patient, ever craving flesh, ever thirsting blood.
Some refused the gift of eternal night, choosing to resist instead, choosing certain doom.
Trees bowed in half, rivers split in disarray, mountains crumbled unrecognizable at the colossal fluttering of battle-worn wings.
Exhausted and bloody.
Broken beaks evoked mighty hoots that traveled across fields, oceans and continents wide to the edge of the world and beyond.
A last call to all brothers in arms , a gathering for one final stand.
Ultimately, whether the ancients of Illum lived or perished , to mistress Nóctua, it's all the same.