There were not many in this strange land of faraway who still remembered the light. Black had become darkness, and other colors fell away to reveal shifting patterns of gray. It was with need that they moved about, dreams floating around flame.
The fire cast no color on the world around them, one so harsh that not even the light caressed the leaf strewn floor. The light refused to comprehend a place such as this.
A place that danced even as it burned.
Sheathed in moonlight (for they were not truly lost, not even then), the figures, they moved, whirling howls of pain and want, arms forced away from the warmth of flesh towards the elemental heat of flame.