If there was any place colder, more desolate, more ravaged and wartorn than here, I felt sorry for the souls that had to wander it. The winds and waves were harsh and choppy as they carved into the grey stone cliffs in an icy dance of hatred and sorrow. I sat, curled into a ball on the edge of the cliff, staring out over the charcoal sea that snapped viciously at the beach. It was hungry, eating away piece by piece at my perch. How long before I would tumble down with the rocks? Days? Hours? What decides time in this wretched place?
The land wasn't always this bitter. It used to be warm and pleasant and calm. Oh, how I missed that calm. Every day was gorgeous and every night the sky was so filled with stars that you couldn't even begin to point out constellations. What happened to that perfection? It was so hard to remember. . .
The storm. That's right, when the storm came through it tore through the beauty of this place and stole a