Children of the Forest
Children of the ForestThe forest is a good place to hide, to belong. To connect with the lost child behind the curtain of consciousness.
Torn Apart Demon Heart
Torn Apart Demon HeartWhen thoughts are fed to us and left to fester, we forget who we are, and then the heartbroken demon appears.
The Blood of Pomegranates
The Blood of PomegranatesA stab in the heart. The sacred and the rotting.
No ExitYou can feel the bloodless face of death peering at you from the hollow, wet places of the city.
Memento MoriRemember that you will die. Remember that life is a gift; but it is not ours to keep forever.
The Void, Trans-muted
Enshrouded, wrapped in layers that bend light and obscure form, there is something waiting to to emerge. Incubation, transmutation. It begins as a pulsing red heart, bleeding into open hands. Soon, skin stretches across a vertebra, recoiling against the darkness it was once accustomed to. Fear dissolves in the light, however, and she is born. Fingers gouge through the cocoon, tearing as blood seeps, and steam disperses into open air. Layers slide off her skin—not one, but many—and soon she is free. Though she may not yet see the stars, deep inside this womb of becoming, she is not alone, and she has what she needs: a heart and a body reclaimed.