Not in cohesive images which held true to some internal narrative, but chaotic fragments, layered one over the other with no sense of unity. Images of a dark and sterile land where the earth was black and the trees were white and the sky burned crimson and orange overhead. Images of running, of terrible thirst, of a paralysis that came upon him muscle by muscle, limb by limb, until he could do no more than lie helplessly on the ground, his every breath a struggle for survival. And then there was rakhene laughter. Always that: gales of rakhene laughter, as cruel and as bloodthirsty as any he had heard in Hesseth’s homeland. Sometimes there were crystals, too, glistening black columns like the citadel they had seen in Lema—the Master’s citadel, which they had destroyed—only now there were thousands of them, more than thousands, large ones and small ones and carved ones and broken ones ... some of the carved ones were in the shape of skulls, but instead of empty sockets they had vast, glaring eyes.
What do You think about When True Night Falls (2010)?
