The first coats of paint were white- large strokes that bleached the desecrated halls and covered up the scribbles of the short-sighted. This was one day's work, and by the end every surface reflected even the slightest hint of candlelight- it was not the same as the memories of dawn's embrace, but there was something comparable.

On the second day, the thief stole this bright light- and it it's place left shades that blended down deep into the abyss- the beginnings of a horse, dark purple veins and black sinew twisting together, rows of sharp rotted teeth in place of a normal mouth, all painted on the right side. The gaping maw of an distended kindred face, a long and bubbling dark red tongue stretching out as frail and weak beings outlined in black struggled to climb in... Dark shadows of buildings in the backgrounds. This was above the doorway, a haunting sight to all who left. And finally, the start of a ship floating above the same bleak expanse that took over the lower walls of the building. Where once light bounced and strove to shine bright, now struggled

On the third day, the Shadow swept across the halls and shrouded what remained of the dawn. In that temple, skies became dim and dull shades of sickly greens and toxic oranges that would threaten to blot out even the most radiant of lights- in this world, the Kindred would have no fear of the sun. Upon the horse, a figure was attached- a woman, human and pale, thin and sickly, her legs connected to the horse where she would remain forever. And in her arms, the Shadow took what was left of the dawn he'd taken and made it into the image of a child- alive and free from the prison it's mother was now bound eternal, and with a future bright- even as blackened trees collapsed around them. A symbol of a cycle so far unending.

On the kindred face were textures to resemble the struggle of it's mouth to keep from breaking, as the shambling beings' faces became ones of torment as they escaped the ruins of a civilization destroyed by hands not their own, only to end up victims to the kindred's unceasing hunger. Would they understand? Did the thief, even? The fangs shown bright, brighter than the world they inhabited... Awaiting the tablescraps of humanity. A symbol of devastation as a cycle was broken.

And on the ship were grafted survivors- beings that resembled kindred, now bound by something bigger than themselves. Upon the masts and hanging on the sides were symbols occult and kindred; symbols Invictus and Lancea, Crone and Ordo... And yes, Carthian. All unified on a vessel that floated above the ruins, all combined into something that would survive this bleak future. A symbol of unity among the ruins of the past.

On the fourth day, the Norvegi brought the knife to feed his creation. Vitae was spilled into pure white paint, and quickly blended in. When that divine and dangerous thing reverted... Could he tell? It mattered not, as he applied the mixture. Spilling from the woman's legs and into her mount. Dripping from the hungry maw, the ghostly eyes, and from it's victims. And into the sails, in the faces, between the kindred of the ship. That beautiful light was but a memory now. But there was something beautiful, here.

There was something worth more, here. Hopefully the one that hired him... Thomas Boyle ... Hopefully he would think the same.