Leaves, torn from the branches by the gusts of wind, fly and scatter. Candles exude strange scents floating like mist in the dimly lit rooms crowded by many priests in cherry-red velvet cloaks. Cold wind turns the ground into the stone and the howls of beasts can be heard approaching from afar.
Flashes of light produce moving pictures on the ground; shadows of fluttering leaves frantically dance and shiver. A massive cloud heavy like a juggernaut with the dark and dirty belly of a whale ponderously crosses the sky submerging the vast areas below into the murky dusk and drizzle.
Flocks of birds take off in a sudden fear and fly away from the approaching roar. The howls are getting louder, more pronounced. This guttural, powerful sound makes the earth vibrate and sends the electrical shivers through the eardrums.
The sound is in the air, in the trees, in the concrete walls of buildings. It grates and electrifies everything. It's so overwhelming and loud that it's unclear anymore where it comes from; it comes from everywhere, everything is drowning in this violent rumble: the crumbling walls, the ground, trees, air.
The remaining leaves make wild spirals in the air and disappear. Dazzling electric arcs fill the space, sprouting the thousands of branches. The blinding cascades of a blue light slice through the surrounding space. Light quickly fades out and the billows of black clouds form a whirlwind high above.
In this darkness the bare, stripped of foliage tree trunks begin to swing and bend convulsively, their branches thrashing like a pile of captured fish on the deck.
The priests clad in cherry red cloaks begin to chant monotonously, their faces are concealed by the hoods of their cloaks. There are dark holes where priest's faces should be. Their pale, bony hands clutch the wands made of dark heavy wood. The wands can control the beast.
The uneven flame of the candles leaps back and forth casting shadows. The shadows are cavorting on the walls ominously. The chants of the priests gain volume, transcending from the sound of human voices towards the powerful noise on par with the voice of the beast outside.
The sound of the beast swings the trees violently, breaks their boughs and flings them to the whirlwind of black clouds above. The space is filled with flying debris; broken tree branches, stones, dust, and broken glass.
The priests raise their hands toward the sky. The air around explodes in a blinding kaleidoscope of lightning bolts. Their blue light fills everything rendering everything invisible, intangible, non-existent. They bloom sprouting scintillating tentacles enveloping and embracing everything. They stretch towards the sky and illuminate the bottom of a black whirlwind.
The priests continue their chanting and their voices coalesce with the voice of the beast. Now it's a single voice, and its power multiplies. The strong unceasing wing carries a quiet, enchanting melody from afar. The scented candles go off, and a whiff of smoke falls apart and dissolves in the air; its remnants are blown away by the wind.
A huge bird moves ponderously high above, covering half of the sky with its wings. It is floating above the whirlwind of clouds, above the beast, above the violent cascades of the brilliant blue fire. The fire that swallowed the shadows and turned the reality into a smattering of pale ghostly outlines.
The bird moves slowly, gracefully, each flap of its wings producing a gust of wind. A gust of wind that disturbs and shakes clouds, raising the wide swirls of debris, spinning violently and disappearing into the sky. A tender, quiet melody comes with gusts of wind and drowns in their deafening noise. But every time it's getting more and more steady