Beneath the Sickle's Swing
Ice and Snow

Smoke there was once, smoke in great billows and a blaze of fire belching out of bottomless caverns. Torches burned between chains. There was heat infernal and an infernal host among ragged shadows ebbed and flowed, crying praises to the majesty of our Dark Lord. The iron of the vaults and the topless turrets glowed cherry-red against endless night.

Then the Breaking came, and the Chaining. Then the turrets fell and the vaults were opened and the flames quenched. Then the Lord left, and dark was upon us.

Now where smoke was once, and fire, lies only ice and snow.