Chapter V - White Flag

Set on a spike in a reservoir is one of the oracles. Walls have grown tall. We are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Ripples of contaminated wind erode our windmills. Electric towers and hollow trees. Still standing but surrendered. It takes one last drop for the skeleton to crumble. The spear has now cracked it open. The fall breaks it in half. Two circular windows are opened to empty spaces. The prison where light had escaped from is now an empty vessel made of stone.