Tantalizing Tortured Tourists

Raven? Writing Desk?

Volk Neer:"One veinless kiln."

She stands, floats on the mountaintop. Sings to the sea. Downwards to the shipwrecks, her whispered chants release. Holding in her slender fingers, the one and only key. A single ember flickering, only she can set it free. Melodic, chaotic, her song fills the air. Bolder, her whispers slowly rise. Ember suddenly bursts into flame. Her ghostly figure, enveloped in a smoldering rage. Fire creeps down the mountain. Sea and flame now one. Dead wood arise, reassemble. She is silent. Eclipse begins