Son of Sulphur

Son of Sulphur in undying obscurity, the faction is alive. A calculating sun materializes as from a parched catacomb children wake. Their frozen slumber should have been eternal if not for the cries of slain tolerance. Upon reentering the world realization sweeps over them. They reside in man's reality whose w***e wears a fermented face and a badge of trickery thus time holds no statues or personal relationships with life. 

“Summon the avenger,” they thundered.

While cherry droplets trickle from an unseen source, nourish and revive earth and vegetation, It tore free from the venomous womb they forged. Metal teeth flash. As they bite down a blue road yawns. From its juncture crying roses bloom. Their tears splash across black ribbon, merge to create a map of angst. Jagged tugs uphill lead nowhere but to parted sinew and gushing waterfalls.