Hundreds of corpses were sprinkled along the plains. One cadaver in particular, stood out among the rest. At the terrains edge lay, the body of a dark skinned man with bloody limbs and chequered teeth, he was covered in twisted roots and brambles than held him in place like a puppet's strings. Many branches had dug under skin; under wounds and cuts, and wormed their way around bones, ripping through muscles. Clumps of intertwined gorse sprung out of his face, through black-red windows that may have one held eyes, but now only held space for frozen agony and shadows. Both husks continued to consume and conceal each other forming an image of nightmares.
A woman with glorious, gold feathered wings sat back against a heap of bodies, that had been carelessly tossed together, watching the wood grow further, as it widened, tearing apart and ravaging the body of the man that had once called himself a king — she mentally scoffed at the idea of him being any form of leader. Her bored, unblinking expression bore into the gory image of the protruding plant snapping the man's neck, cracking and crumbling his blackened ribcage.
The angel moved about her hand in concentration, further contorting and recreating the unholy amalgamation impassively.
Over time what were once the man's feature, and parts had been pulled into a large, hollow tree. The black-brown dry wood bore sagging gaps through the plant's front, seemingly serving as eyes and a mouth: the mouth serving as an entrance.
The woman responsible for corpse tree's state walked in through the almost-orifice, taking in her work; Seeming pleased with herself, she placed her hand on the back wall, inside the confines of the tree, and stretched out her fingers with an almost vindictive expression.
The Blackwood stretched outward, forming a slowly growing hole, that brought forth an all encompassing creek which could have been mistaken for a pained screech.
The colossal mass' form quivered as the woman continued to pull apart the flesh-bark until she formed a second entrance — larger and more welcoming that the one that sat opposite to it — with a neat ebony outline, that screened silent pleas.
Pleased, she waltzed back out the front of the tree, and passing through a few miles of carnage and rubble, she stopped in front of the ruins of a temple.
Ruins. That word having any place in this land was a retched thought. She'd never understand how mortals could so easily desecrate such a holy place, how they could allow, cause, such a butchery of their own kind. Then again, she couldn't understand how the Gods allowed it either, though she wouldn't dare question them. How could they allow this to happen to their temple, their land, their acolytes?
She and her two acquaintances had been sent here to bestow retribution. To give deliverance after, those filthy sinners had murdered the clan that had been guarding this land.
It made her sick that any of it had happened, she only found peace in the fact that they had now found peace.
Now that the job was done the only issue she had was that they had to stay here, to become the land's new guardians. It felt like a punishment, being left down here, but there was nothing she could do about it except make it more comfortable.
She spent some more time reforming the ruins, building herself a quaint little settlement from the marble and stone. She formed a little garden of bright colourful flowers in front of it.
She then opted to create a barrier around the area, not one that prevent mortals from entering (she could simply get rid of them), but one that would allow this space to be better than the rest of earth: more peaceful, more perfect.
She flew above the grounds, through the darkening sky, seeing more being formed by the other two. She saw everything that she had made, and behold, it was very good.
And as she went to check the progression of her fellow angels, she thought perhaps, this wouldn't be so bad.