I can still hear the echo of her final breath. Faint, nearly forgotten.
These lands are broken, like her body. You see? They are the same.
A candle in darkness. Once lit, now extinguished. The wick glows dimly, but no hope of light. A thin line of curling smoke marks her last breath.
This is the Hunger, my child. The Hunger is not a thing. It is no “thing” at all.
What means 'darkness' ? Where once, there was light.
What is 'cold' ? Where once, there was heat.
What is the Hunger ? Where once, there was Life.
Can you hear it? The silence? Once, our World had a pulse. Her blood, that molten rock which once flowed so strongly through her veins… it slows, now, and thickens.
My brothers, sisters and I cannot heal your World. Dead stays dead. Unlife is not Life. This is the way.
I weep, but it matters not. When the last warmth is gone, I will weep no more.
...for I, too, will be cold.