The beam of hope has been rooting. The second millenary of the humans' era was the most adventurous one. Kings drew out the swords, forged more blades, blood poured out and hearts had broken.
Dark thick clouds, dry and carrying heats, hovering in the sky of the demonic world. They surged forth and lashed the skins. The atmosphere was heavy and filthy, teasing eyes and lungs. No light could pass through that expanded dark sky. The soil was dry and hot. No living scent could be sensed to heal the nerves.
Chained Dwarves were shackled to each other. With bared feet, they were carrying huge raw coals. The severe warm weather succumbed them. Those who couldn't carry on and died had thrown for the beasts. The devil beings left invidious scenes in memories for the alive ones to work harder and hang one.
*
"Don't bother more; there is no way to open those chains." A soft and melodious voice said as if she was reciting a lullaby for Suran.
