Death wore its bloodiest red. Red-cloaked servants of death stalked Kargusha. A people, oblivious to everything, had fallen into one of the night's most silent sleeps. Newborn babies, children, women, and old men. They were unaware of the darkness that would dawn that night. Death was digging giant pits for them, graves for headless bodies and bodyless heads. Meters above the ground... A black shadow appeared on the Eagles' Rock, its hands outstretched, muttering something in a language no one had ever heard before. Kargusha and the entire valley were now beneath its feet. Not a single bird awoke that morning; the birds had abandoned this oppressed land in the middle of the night, interrupting their sleep.
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