To the paranormal mind it looked like a gathering or spirit orbs.
To the untrained eye it looked like a shower of dust.
To the trained eye it looked like countless bodies falling to their deaths.
There was a colosseum there once, after the Romans had invaded and settled down. It was a small one, something for lesser games and a lesser audience. Nothing to write home about and as such there were no records of it and only the barest trace of ruins found deep underground.
It's hard to say how it fell, the spirits were too busy reenacting their deaths and screaming, not that they could be heard, but their faces were contorted with terror. It's probably better that they can't talk, the dead rarely have anything good to say and finding someone who can speak the strange hybrid of Latin and ancient English is as likely as squeezing blood from a stone.
To the untrained eye it looked like a shower of dust.
To the trained eye it looked like countless bodies falling to their deaths.
There was a colosseum there once, after the Romans had invaded and settled down. It was a small one, something for lesser games and a lesser audience. Nothing to write home about and as such there were no records of it and only the barest trace of ruins found deep underground.
It's hard to say how it fell, the spirits were too busy reenacting their deaths and screaming, not that they could be heard, but their faces were contorted with terror. It's probably better that they can't talk, the dead rarely have anything good to say and finding someone who can speak the strange hybrid of Latin and ancient English is as likely as squeezing blood from a stone.
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