Hello, Darklings.

Morgana Darkness

Morgana in a burgundy leather coat, standing in a narrow gothic stone alley at night, wet cobblestones shining under an old lamp.

Some corners of the city never forgot the old ways.

Morgana on a rain-soaked rooftop terrace among towers of neon signs, flying police cars drifting through the mist.

The future is just the past, wearing new light.

Morgana in a street of glowing red and green signs, rain falling, strangers with umbrellas passing behind her.

Moments lost in time. Tears lost in rain. We are only passing shadows.

Morgana inside an endless grid of violet and cyan light, her reflection watching from a glass wall.

The network is alive tonight.

Morgana painted into Hieronymus Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights, holding an hourglass.

Every age paints its own hell. Ours is in high resolution.

Close portrait of Morgana against a red and violet nebula full of stars.

In an endless universe, time is all we are given.

Morgana on a white marble balcony above golden clouds, a shining cathedral floating in the distance. The same woman in a gothic hall of fire, rivers of lava glowing behind her.

Heaven is the light we carry within. Hell is the darkness we cannot escape.