A silent waste land, bones lay across the horizon and vultures pick at them.

A lone figure walks these forgotten lands, with no purpose, no hope.

Passing rotting corpses, indistinguishable bones, and weapons scattered everywhere, the feeling of dread pierces the soul like a blade.

Nothing is left, like the scattered bodies the world rots, asking itself why.

The last living creature walks alone, stumbling, crying to the heavens with no response.

Death appears to claim its final soul, they drop to their knees wiping their tears accepting fate as it is, this was the end, death in a silent waste land.