Surge

An immense nopal reaches towards the silver desert sky like the claw of a goddess--massive, and catches a red rock mesa in its cool moonscape of dappled shadow formed by thousands of flat, thorny pads. Its huge oval fruit glows hot blue and drips sacred electric sparks against winds heavy with unshed thunder.

The priory rises in looping copper lattices, forming blueish brambles, bridges and cylindrical towers--a congregation of worked metal, twining plant, and pulsing gearwork. Lightning forms the glimmering blood in the sinuous wires that snake amongst the desert climbers vines. Clockwork mechanism and glittering hummingbirds dart in and among the workings.

Beneath it all, the soothing rumble of shifting earth, and the song of draconic voices, raised in work and prayer, "Purify the storm."