Burning leaves.

There is a place.
A hidden place.
A place where shadows are real.
Illusions are solid here.

There is a voice.
An omnipresent voice.
A voice that directs all things.
Whispers are rules here.

A dark place where light never shines.
Sealed off from everything.
Filled with shadows and illusions and whispers.
Filled with grey.

All the leaves are burning here.
Burning but never turning to ash.
The fires rage on and on.
Always more to burn.

A silent place.
A quiet place.
A dark place.
A fiery place.

This place is where I exist.
The centre and the edges.
None can find me here.
I am god here.

A Gift from Dead Gods, 14.

It was two days later when they came into view of the the city. The great city of Rasnach was a city unlike any other on the face of their world. It stretched out for miles in all directions, towers clawing for the skies. Underneath it, Fyanha knew, were whole mazes of sewers and tunnels providing access to the undercity which lay beneath the city. In the centre of the city stood the temple of the Gods, now the grand temple of the Lord of Blades.
Fyanha looked around at the surrounding fields and then at the three people she travelled with. The armored form of the Champion looked at the city, his full helmet hiding his expression from her. Fyanha didn’t like that. She didn’t make an issue of it though, Luno was the chosen of the Lord of Blades. That gave him authority over her. The hulking Nathaniel loomed behind their leader, his expression worried. He was still getting used to his changed and improved body. He didn’t see it that way of course.
It was the elf on the huge mans shoulders who captured her attention the most. Fyanha was not a tall woman. The little elf on the giants shoulder made her look a lot taller in comparison though. The girl was staring at the city with her green eyes opened wide in amazement. Nera seemed to feel her gaze on her and turned to look at the demon-powered elf. “So,” Fyanha began, “what do you think of our great city?”
The girl didn’t reply but stared at the city again. She then raised her arm and pointed at the city sprawled on the plain before them. “Why is it so big?” Fyanha laughed. “That’s because it’s the largest city in the world, little one. The grand temple is here, just like the hidden temple. But there is only one God left, so they’re his temples now.” Luno grunted, “We can give you the grand tour later.”


---

In the kingdom of Garalla trouble was brewing. Prince Ragul slammed his fist down on the table. “This cannot be allowed to pass! My people, the people of this nation, they are lost! Ever since our god..” His sentence trailed off, and he stared at the people around the table. The assembled nobles looked at him apprehensively. One of them, a tall lady in one of the traditional blue dresses, looked at him. “My lord, it is not your fault the gods have deserted us.”
The prince looked at her and sighed. “Yes, lady Tinza. You are right, of course. Still, something must be done. Insanity reigns in the streets, terror roams in the night. Did you know not a night passes without families dying?” Lady Tinza nodded. “Yes, my lord. And I find myself in agreement with your statement that something must be done. Moreover, I can help you.” The prince nodded, “The first thing I want to do is stop the people from leaving. The concept of not having a god terrifies them. They’re all crossing the sea to that accursed place. Rasnach, they call it.”
Tinza nodded, “It seems they need a symbol. Tell me your highness, do you think a dragon would be enough?” That caught him off guard. He quickly recovered his composure. “Yes, I think it will be enough. Now, where do we find a dragon? Do you have one in your pocket, Tinza?” Tinza didn’t reply. She was smiling. The prince looked around the room. “Well,” he said, “is there a dragon here?”
Silence. All the nobles were looking around but Ragul noticed that that witch Tinza was still smiling. He sighed. “You know something, lady Tinza?” Her smile grew slightly, “Yes, dear prince.” Then she stepped aside and another figure stepped forward. The figure was clad in an archaic suit of armor, metal plates and chainmail and chains. Ragul stared at the figure. “You’re the dragon?”

Whispers.

Whispers in the void.
Voices in the ‘verse.
The world is recreated.
The sky is reborn.

Noise in the world.
Silent are the woods.
Your race is created.
Your shape is born.

Drums in the deep.
Buzzing in the air.
The man is alive.
The beast is rising.

---

Whispers in the dark.
Voices from the walls.
The ceiling is crawling.
The floor is shifting.

Noise in your mind.
Silent are your screams.
Your voice is gone.
Your chest is hollow.

Drums in the veins.
Buzzing fills the ears.
The heat is rising.
The hand is trembling.

---

Whispers in the chips.
Voices in the boards.
The screens are glowing.
The data is flowing.

Noise in the machines.
Silent are the walls.
Your time is done.
Your task is complete.

Drums in the wilds.
Buzzing in their minds.
The man is free.
The beast is loose.

Noise.

Massive towers and looming arches.
Great spires clawing at overcast skies.
A world filled with hell.
A world where man can live for an hour.
Lungs turning to ashes.
Bones litter the streets.
The fires burn and they keep burning.
A temple, empty and unholy stands, it falls.
All fall down on this world.
The great towers and tall spires collapse.
No reason.
No purpose.
Clouds boil above a wasteland.
Rain falls on barren soil.
Things crawl and life goes on.
The end has come and gone, leaving nothing.
Deep below in caverns still untouched.
The dreamers sleep and dream of perfection.
A cave filled with air.
A place where man can hide away forever.
Void and empty of meaning.
Cells cover the walls.
The thoughts turn, they keep turning.
A city of ghosts stands, it does not fall.
None can leave this place alive.
The caverns stay hidden away forever.
No sorrow.
No death.

---

Listening to noise produces this.