There was once a city, bathed in Crimson

There was once a city, bathed in Crimson

There was once a city bathed in Crimson. Well... to say it bathed is more of misconception from common folk law. It was closer to the fact that the city shed crimson, as if a seeping wound had emerged from the undergrowth and a city of metal and gold was crafted from its deep clot. Its walls glistening in the sunlight to give it a hauntingly clean surface, its corners and angles encased in detailed gold and brass, patterns of vines or maybe even veins made decoration. The many spires, ranging from titanic towers to thinly cut spears, rose from the city like weeds in a garden, stubborn and many that appeared to be harmless enough but could leave painful damage if tried to be removed. Empty and watching hallowed windows littered the buildings like a well guided infection, making anyone who looked up at them wonder if eyes were hiding within their shadows. Other decorations lined the walls and tips of spires, mostly golden or silver but all depicting different roman numerals with no apparent hidden code. Now and then dot to dot would give an image of a triangle with the same numbers, but that was mere coincidence.
The city in all looked like a well kept and polished ornament left on the mantle piece, which could catch the eye of any who passed by and leave a definite twinge of envy but would make thieves consider about pocketing the item without being stabbed or prodded by its many thorns.
Any man that walked below its looming crimson walls and stood at its bronze gates would wished to their highest hopes to spill their vision on the types of wonders and beauties the city could hide, the types owned by the vintage of people that lived in such God like class and to even imagine the architects that could have constructed such a haunting monument to the visions Man could have. The gates themselves would have taken a colossal event on a world shaking magnitude to make it even consider opening to test its hinges.
The same day when that very city disappeared a man stood at those gates. For the first time in a decade, the gates accepted the arrival of a traveller and opened with sinew snapping noises as ingrown rust shattered. For the first time in a centaury the traveller was able to cross the threshold of the cities entrance without being removed from reality itself. For the first time in the world's history, an entire city cried at the arrival of one man. For the first time in the cities quest of travelling, it had found its maker.

To be continued.