The Dying Light

The sun was setting in the plains while rays of pink, orange, and red penetrated clean air of the dry evening atmosphere. Moglos was looking at the silhouette of mountains in the distance, at the very far end of the vast grassy plains that he reigned over. Evening stars scattered like forgotten treasures, each one soon to be a glimmering jewel in the velvet cloak of night. Moglos turned toward the sky, it was an unfathomable vast expanse of nothingness he could not comprehend, it was getting dark.