The fire kindling from the embers of a used-up torch seems to never start, as if it has a heart of its own, beating into the sound of battle. Alas, it is but a fire, and fire needs something to burn to light anew, but there was nothing left to consume, as it had already consumed everything. Thus, with the cold breeze of the wind, it slowly but surely until it was snuffed out of its final embers, and with it, the accursed beating stopped as it lost the colors, its very beauty, turning into what is now dull and monotonous, lifeless death of its kind.
The sound and vibration of steel clashing into the ground sends shockwaves into the underworld of critters; those who have been asleep are now wide awake. Some chose to go deeper into the ground, whilst some chose to go and relocate elsewhere trying to find somewhere much quieter than going back into the hellhole and attempting to dig deeper.
