The-Black-Pearl-Club

The cradle had served as a place of birth, as a place of death, a place of sorrow, torment and, finally, destiny. Fates intertwined into creation through discombobulation, an occurrence having followed an event following a vignette on a predetermined path to come to this. A moment of uncertainty, a sharp conflagration of desperate hope flaring with a wisp of smoke of the impossibly burning cinnamon, as the biblical parting of the seas reveal purple-red, and fire that has not been doused even with the crushing depths of the seas. Here, from the ashen waters, a strange phoenix has risen.