As the music played, the echoing screams were deafening, drowning out the piano and bells - the smell, the noise, everything was too much.

The world was ending, as the monsters that once lied beneath rose up again, to take control of their Earth.

Awoken from their slumber at last, a colorful death laid waste upon the land, as the poisonous flowers bloomed from the spilled blood.

It was a sinister sight, but their ancient language sounded like music - almost hypnotizing - and as they passed through, you couldn’t help but bow at their immense beauty; the fear of being crushed under their feet forgotten for a brief moment.

Humanity was of no consequence, and was treated as such; it mattered not whether they fought back or not, for they could never overthrow the beasts that could bring wonder and destruction to life and death.

Some worshipped them like Gods, and gladly offered their lives for a chance to live among the other spirits in their full bellies - a kind of ethereal life after death, a chance to encounter their lost loved ones.

Most despaired at the realization they had never been anything but ants acting as lions.