A crackling sound splits the silence of the still air.
Small, insignificant at first,
the swift light jumps from leaf to leaf,
powerfully luminous in the darkness.
The orchestra crescendos
conducted by the wild breeze.
Providing a perfect cover for the cantrip creeping below.
Silent shadows rise from the light,
thick, formless and potent.
Fervent with freedom, they dance through the sky
painting it primrose.
Without warning, the landscape is doused in sepia
And that which has not already been overrun
waits in patient anticipation.
The flames rise high but the smoke rises higher
until the line between embered ground and amber clouds disappears.
Helios himself blushes pink in comparison to the residue
of the fearsome flames.
A black death coats the endurant earth
and ash covers the mighty mountains.
In the land around, traces of the past fall like snowflakes,
silvery grey memories,
melting to the touch,
disintegrating in the wind.
It's raining ghosts.
