THE ENTRAILS DEVOURED BY PUTRID WINDS

A miasma of decay hangs heavy in the heavens, thick with the reek of death. The wind, a chilling serpent, coils around the mangled corpses, shredding flesh from bone. The remains gleam like pearls in the morbid twilight. A symphony of groans echoes through the depths, a chorus of despair as the innards are devoured by the winds of oblivion. Which