A dormant beast is neither lazy or tired.
It is just dormant.
Heart beating and brimming with fire. “Mark my words,” a sage with eyes fixed on a cracked crystal announced, “it will haunt and torment.”
Dreaming, waiting, yearning and craving the flesh it lies in a cave called Furthest;
but it will soon awake from its deathly slumber with the passing of the blue ice harvest.
The fiery sun it awaits to have fun with your brittle bones and balmy blood.
Fear it most when it is dormant … Dreaming, waiting, yearning and craving … Your mortal flesh!
A macabre morning I wish thee …