Silence

When the oracle’s lips were sewn shut, the final prophecy turned into flying ash in the shadows.
All sacred texts became blank paper at this moment, leaving only these sharp, piercing black and red wings as the ironclad proof that forbidden knowledge once descended.
It will not flutter, nor will it bring a breeze; it is simply nailed to the void, bearing the heavy truth that cannot be spoken.
It stands watch. Waiting to land on a pale collarbone, letting the soul that understands "the highest subjugation stems from absolute silence" become its new shrine.