The blood moon rises once again.
Its red glow shines on a ravaged land, spilling through cracks and broken stone to coax the bones of the earth. Through the webbing of a ringed skylight, its light in eclipse illuminates a circle of burbling, violet-black mucus. Rimming it are characters of the same, spelled out in odd, unsteady strokes.
As the crimson reaches its zenith, a mucous strand pops.