Meadow of Despair.

Decimated by the Hands of Chaos.

A perpetual goal-- a need to bring redemption back toward the lost. The seeds of regret had been sewn so deeply within the virtuous that she had little choice but to become the one that the people of Nyx would then know as the champion. A harbinger of light and a slayer of Chaos -- a herald to the new dawn that would bathe them all in hope that they yearned for.

The taste of life was waning from the lands that were slowly being ravaged by endless pulsations of Chaos -- and with them, souls were beginning to skirt along the edge, needing to be redeemed and guided toward the Enigmatic World. Tenebrae, as by the prompt that her family would be given back to her at the end of the days and by completing his tasks, retained power beyond her own imagination.

And so she awakened from her dismal slumber of evermore and emerged into the dying world. Listening to the pleas of the helpless.

---

The fragrance of gunpowder filled the clouds. The realm spoke it's agitation in the form of roaring thunders, a cry of rage and agony and expressed itself in the form of crestfallen drizzle soaking the earth with it's coarseness. Perhaps the clock tower within Luptari was a preferable place to stake her perch -- she had a bird's eye view of the entire city from up there, watching the smoke skitter across the winding paths, hear the pattering steps of brutes within the mile, observe the smattering of fire power in the sky as cheers crackled overhead.

A realm troubled by the flow of space and time, a place where such things appeared to be in a state of distortion. But then, the flashes of lightning coalesced with the rumbling of thunder. Storm clouds congealed, heavy with rain that was beginning to simply sprinkle -- but it would get heavy within time.

Droplets of water struck her visage, her tenebrous blue locks, causing the champion to angle her cranium skywards. Right arm extended outwards marginally, digits flung open, gloved palm captured the sorrowful tears of the heavens. Vision blurred upon the cryptic being. Something seemed to call to her -- a pull of heartstrings, a beckoning. Crystalline optics narrowed momentarily in a fleeting thought. It was not of this world -- nor was it meant to be here any means. And yet, there was some sort of compulsion that beckoned her fourth. What was this element of unease that injected doubt into her being? What was it's origin?

Eyes that transcended human capabilities dismissed the populace that sought shelter from the rain as ordinary. It made just one soul stand above the rest. The champion ignored the cold chill that rippled against her skin; there was no time to waste and the sands of time were already sliding through her fingertips. And so without a hitch, she turned her head and leaped -- soaring through the sky, diving head-first down.

It appeared to be a suicide attempt. Cerulean flickered in her wake, following a trail, and suddenly her body vanished, only to settle her safely upon the ground. Stepping along a path of people that were persistent to get inside and away from the storm's wake, she began, focusing on the point where she saw it.

---

Destiny guided her. Her path was meant to merge at a meridian, and finally it occurred - perhaps at the worst possible moment suspended in time. A place where no sense of time could be wasted. And yet whatever fate had in store for them screamed volumes toward the champion, and she lacked any capability to deny the truth of it's sudden importance. Upon slowing in the area, the footsteps that once clashed loudly within Luptari's ground had come to a halt. All weapons within seemed to flicker and then fizzle, dimming considerably.

Replacing it were the occasional blasts of lightning in the sky and then the rolling drums of thunder, colliding with the horizon, speeding against the darkened canvas above. A symphony of her personal tastes, while bittersweet given the meeting of destiny, seemed to fit the scene rather well. But the roaring quake beneath her feet commenced it's tremble, and a gasp of awe-struck struck the harbinger.