Drops of Crimson

[Locksmith]

---

☥

▓

⠠
⠠
⠎
⠁
⠇
⠧
⠁
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠙
⠑
⠌
⠗
⠥
⠉
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠎
⠁
⠇
⠧
⠁
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠙
⠑
⠌
⠗
⠥
⠉
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠙
⠑
⠌
⠗
⠥
⠉
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠎
⠁
⠇
⠧
⠁
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠙
⠑
⠌
⠗
⠥
⠉
⠰
⠝

⠠
⠠
⠎
⠁
⠇
⠧
⠁
⠰
⠝

⠠⠘⠮⠀⠐⠙⠎⠀⠩⠙⠀⠃⠗⠬⠀⠚⠕⠽⠀⠞⠕⠀⠐⠑⠽⠐⠕⠲⠀⠠⠃⠀⠞⠄⠎⠀⠝⠀⠮⠀⠉⠁⠎⠑⠀⠿⠀⠁⠇⠇⠲

⠠⠙⠑⠜⠀⠐⠕⠀⠱⠕⠀⠎⠑⠑⠎⠀⠹⠂⠀⠠⠊⠀⠓⠕⠏⠑⠀⠽⠀⠋⠔⠙⠀⠺⠜⠍⠹⠂⠀⠗⠑⠌⠂⠀⠯⠀⠓⠁⠏⠏⠊⠰⠎⠲

⠠⠿⠀⠑⠧⠢⠀⠽⠗⠀⠃⠗⠊⠑⠋⠑⠌⠀⠛⠇⠨⠑⠀⠊⠎⠀⠎⠥⠖⠊⠉⠊⠢⠞⠀⠞⠕⠀⠃⠗⠬⠀⠍⠑⠀⠚⠕⠽⠲

The pattern is being formed...
From the tiniest, yet precious pieces.
Scattered, imprisoned in the distance.

In a place of everlasting ebb.
Of endless hunger.
Of existence's end.
Of great entropy.

In a place of shining death.
Of nesting grounds for the abandoned.
Of mortal darkness.
Of hidden gifts.

In a place of brightest light.
Of flicker shaping.
Of painful truth.
Of empty purpose.

On three paths, three travelers we found.
Their roads align with ours.
For now... At least.

⥀

⛯

---