Scorched Earth winter they’re already waiting

they’re already waiting

When the wall crumbled

her laughter ringing like bells through the velvet dark

tracing promises along the gilded edges where history meets desire

with isolated areas of blue and green forming along recessed sections and near the tip

Scorched Earth winter they’re already waitingThe ground splits before the warning reaches anyone. Heat surges up through the cracks, sharp and immediate, and the air fills with the sound of something vast drawing breath. Not wind. Not storm. Something older, coiled beneath stone and waiting for a reason. Then it comes. A burst of fire, not wild but deliberate sweeping low, close enough to kiss the earth without consuming it entirely. The surface blackens, fractures, reshapes. What was once solid