The sky was cloudy and bleak. The remnants of a storm drifted off in the distance, thunder echoing off the great rock walls of the valley below. Cobblestone rubble was strewn across the valley, crumbling towers rising above the rock. Memories of a great battle were told by craters and broken stone. the strong wind screaming and whistling through the desolate valley seemed to mimic the cries of the people who had once lived in this fallen kingdom years ago. The wind dragged scorched pages of forgotten literature into the air, tearing the ashen sheets apart, finishing the job ancient fire had started.
The lonely valley was completely empty, except for a lone figure standing in the rubble that littered the ground. His snow white hair blew across his face, his silver eyes looking over the wreckage. In them were clouds of sadness. A long time ago they were full of joy and mischief.
Not anymore.
He wore a wanderer's hood, with a tattered brown coat and a messenger bag. His clothes were that of a nomad, but he knew he did not belong in them. Despite his thick yet light attire, he shivered and crossed his arms over his chest.
A beautiful obsidian, wood, and emerald staff was strapped to his back. On the top of it was a tiny golden crown that sat atop an emerald sphere, which was held on by four small obsidian arms.
High above him, a massive owl circled over his head. It's feathers were raven black, and tiny stars dotted its wings.
The beautiful bird suddenly descended, spiraling down towards the figure, and landed, sending stars across the ground in a flurry of wind.
