« Do not go into the mountains after the last moon of October » said Grandmother. « There, high above, waits the Wing of Night, who reigns over the absolute after the sun. Subjects that we are, small as we may imagine ourselves to be, he is the king of dreams, and his dwelling place is icy cold. Look in the barns, in the attics and in the woods, his servants watch over us and protect us from evil. Do not go into the mountains after the last moon of October, for although he grants great wonders, he punishes those who do not deserve them. »
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I had this image in my head for a while. I am happy to finally be able to bring it to life during one of my night-time painting sessions, thinking each brushstroke as a sword thrust into the belly of the GenAI monster.