Weap

Upon the shores of the black coast, I saw a man. He held within him no features, yet i knew he was dread. All things curve towards their ends, and all worlds will turn to ash and dust. A swarm of locusts hangs overhead. The long night never ends. All is naught. The storm protects man from the evils he has long forgetten, but it too shall one say subside, and the consumed lands will overwelm the lightbaskers. Weap.