Outside the presidential palace, the birds began to fall. Her wonderful doves which were forever circling the skies rained down upon the silent denizens who knew enough of magic and augury to guess at the tragedy. The City of Heavenly Light would no longer know the piebald shadows of her omnipresent spies passing overhead. Who would guard them from their neighbors’ secret agendas now, or stop them from plotting their own plots? Mournful faces masked furtive thoughts as each slavish heart was impregnated by this fowl rain with dreams of liberation, advancement, and excess.
The gates had been thrown open.
Tale Told 