The Crown of Sorrow

The air itself burned. All was ash and dust. The remains of his home, his friends, his loved ones, his comrades, his enemies, mixed and intermingled. One spec of ash indistinguishable from the next. He had fallen to his knees, among the after-math of the ruin of his own making. He no longer knew how long he it had been since he'd fallen, how long he remained beyond everything else he ever knew. The ashes of his life coated his body, making him appear as a grey uneven statue, a monument to his own sorrow.

Ages pass,
Life returns to the barren world,
but how will the sins of the past affect its future.

Hello, this is my first story, please leave a comment of any errors or remarks, I do my own proof reading but sometimes I don't catch everything.