The southern sky was aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflection of the great fires that burned… — George RR Martin
The southern sky was aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflection of the great fires that burned below. Baleful green tides moved against the bellies of the clouds, and pools of orange light spread across the heavens. The reds and yellows of common flame warred against the emeralds and jades of wildfire, each color flaring and then fading, birthing armies of short-lived shadows to die again an instant later. Green dawns gave way to orange dusks in half a heartbeat. The air itself smelt burnt, the way a soup kettle sometimes smelled if it were left on the fire too long and all the soup boiled away. Embers drifted through the night air like swarms of fireflies.
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