The storm raged on, an unrelenting tempest of darkness and death. The wind howled with the voices of countless lost souls, each gust a cry of despair that pierced the planet.
Lightning forked across the heavens, casting brief, strobing illumination over a world on the brink of ruin.
Watts stood motionless, his breath ragged as he surveyed the devastation.
The ground beneath him oozed with a thick, tar-like substance that had once been fertile soil.
Trees burned with black flames, their twisted forms like skeletal fingers clawing at the ashen sky.
The stench of decay was suffocating, and the cries of animals—few and far between—spoke of a world in agony
The weight of countless deaths pressed against his very being, each one feeding the unholy storm that consumed the world.
With trembling hands, he activated the Eyes of the Universe again.
