The fire was an inferno, the entire field was the golden flicker of flame, hues of orange, red and gold rose from the blue glow of the ground. This fire was hotter than hell, she proudly told the bunnykinz. She stood grasping him in the middle of the field, the fire all about them but not touching them, the heat not reaching her cold skin, that matched her cold smile. We tried Mr Rabbit, we really did, she mused sadly. We tried for the longest time and all for what? The bunnykinz looked at her with a dull stare, praying the smoke would not taint his beautiful white fur, but even as he thought it, his fur began to turn greyish, his eyes became glassy black, the hands holding him lost their natural colour and became white, hard, like porcelain. The laugh that exploded from his keepers mouth was cold, bitter and even as she laughed, the flames died down, and the smoke began to rise from the smoldering ground. Not even ashes were left to blow upon the wind, just black scorched earth. The field was empty. The mask on her face glimmered for just a moment before her eyes flickered and the blue eyes that once held so much became hard and cold. Shadow fell upon the scorched ground, a deep rumble came from within the earth and before her gnarled roots of a long dead forest began to shoot up, forming a thick forest of dead trunks and lifeless branches around the field, in the center a cold stone spire rose high into the dark sky, the stone smooth to the touch but ice cold to touch, the point upon the rooftop was made of iron, as was the roof itself. Higher and higher it rose, until it was 13 stories from the ground. A small house of iron and ebony at its base. The place of dead things.
And dead things would rot here.
Dead things would grow here.
And the fire would birth it all.
We will remember, we will never forget.