ACROSS ENTRAILS DEVOURED BY PUTRID WINDS

A miasma of decay hangs heavy in the void, thick with the stench of obliteration. The wind, a chilling serpent, coils around the mangled corpses, shredding flesh from bone. The remains gleam like gems in the morbid gloom. A symphony of screams echoes through the depths, a chorus of despair as the innards are devoured by the whirlwind of oblivion.