things fall apart

There's a dark flesh dream madness in the black tower. Sanity's in short supply and running out like wine from a broken cup. The king is dead and yet alive, the prince is utterly mad and yet strangely lucid, and the priest has turned his coat for that of a scientist and brews insanities in the basement. The queen is stone and the concubine has taken her place, the princess has curled up and returned to a womb of glass, and servants betray their masters through both action and inaction.

The sun is coming, slouching westward; it will banish darkness.