Plink...

Plink...

Plink...

The dew dripped from the crisp leaves, landing in the golden chalice.

Drop

By

Drop

The dew would fall, until the chalice was filled. The bitters of the metal rising to the brim, slowly trickling out with each added dew drop.

The dew, once sweet, was now tainted.

Who ever drank from the chalice would become corrupt by their own sins.

One's wings would tear through the flesh and reach the surface.

Only if one were to drink from the chalice again would they return to their old self.

Only then would the screams be silenced.

Only then would the scars heal.