The moon hangs low in the sky, giant like a silver mirror and confidant. So massive and majestic it pulls mighty tides and exerts great influence over the emotions and temperaments of all life on this planet. The celestial bodies seem larger than ever before, sizzling in the ether of the silky lavender colored sky.
Inside the Temple there is a ritual of Lamentations. Thousands of seers, healers, holy women and witches of light radiate from a central pool of visions, under which crystals and gem stones of all kinds are surging with cosmic power. Weeping and cutting their scalps the multitude of women of all ages and ability levels rock back and forth in unison, a wailing of great transmuted suffering. Vestal virgins dash their naked bodies onto broken glass, old women commit suicide in pits of flame.
They are channeling and transmitting the pain of millions around the world to be digested here and returned into the earth by the Goddess. This is a daily ritual in the hours before Dawn and after Sunset when the sky holds shades of purple and deep blue. Translating the last wishes of the dying and hopes of the unloved.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
At once every seer, psychic and holy woman feels struck, on a spiritual wavelength as if by a battering ram. Shattering their communion of solace. A great cry echoes in the night where the darkest clouds come up against the brilliance of the gates of dawn.
From the sunrise pour thousands of souls of the dead warriors from Epochs known and unknown. Horses, chariots, winged valkyries, dragons, monstrosities and perversities undreamt of even by the realms of fantasy.
Astoreth stands beyond the Temple in a great manifestation of power, thousands of feet tall. The crown on her head touching the heavens. Her skin black and glassy like all the stars in the sky held in a veil of volcanic glass. With a beautiful voice like a heavenly chorus, she calls to her familiars.
Spirits of the air and sea, under the earth and monstrosities who hold her love in their heart rise in a titanic rip in the ground. A well of souls shatters rock and boils rivers of black earth. Producing a hole in the atmosphere where black pastures of the bare naked universe interrupt the dawn. Her undead horde spills down onto the horizon while thunder and lightning strike the forrest ablaze into hellish visions distorted by wind and flame. The war that will decide the coming epoch has begun.