psychzee

   The world passed in a haze, filled with paled hues, and blurred edges; the visions of one delirious.   Twisting, grasping, Kili fought to tear himself free from the binding obscurity. Reality came to him in fragmented pieces, too small for him to clasp and hold. Seeped in the slow poison, his blood leaden with it, his claim on life waned though he still fought to live.   Eyes seeking something definite, his struggles eased as a sound reach his ears; dual sounds actually. One promised a dark and empty death, nothing but abandonment in a hollow tomb, the other spoke of light. But he couldn't tell if the light was more deadly than the dark