Blackened stalks rose from dead earth. Our footfalls made almost no sound, and indeed, the skeletal forest seemed to eat up all sounds like they were mother's milk. Our path was illuminated by a thin and feeble light, so that we could barely see more than a few feet in front of us. After a time, all was dread silence. Such a cold, lurking, unforgivably un natural and sinister stillness that we all paused in mid step. Our guide led us on, ever deeper into the wasteland.
It soon grew warmer, and some life returned. There was music from far off, though it was impossible to tell what direction it was coming from. We quickened our pace as the dome of the sky grew brightly blue, our spirits lifting. At last we came to the lip of a vast and verdant valley. The wind swept upwards and blew off the cloak of rags that covered our guide, and before us was not an old haggard wretch, but a beautiful and beguiling goddess, chiseled from the very stone of paradise.
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