[Tyr Zalo Hawk]: 712.Stories.AmidstWhatNeverWas.1.1

Down amongst the shadows of a place no human being ever wants to be, a man sat alone, clutching a draconic halberd. The landscape was barren, but only in the sense that those who lived there deemed it that way. It was a place where time couldn't pass because no one bothered to keep track of how long they were stuck there. Grey flames of varying shades gushed forth and cascaded down in somehow beautiful, yet deadly, waterfalls from thousands of feet above. Towering willow trees, blacker than the darkest of nights thrust up out of the jagged earth. They were a testament, it seemed, to the impossibility of both their existence, and the area they existed in. With an endless, unbroken grey sky that seemed to stretch til the end of this wretched place and beyond, it was like a prison to those in it. But, the areas around them were different.
Somewhere far to the north there was a land of perfection. A place full of green, rolling hills dotted with wildflowers. The smell was enthralling, a true statement of both the beauty of the land, as well as all those in it. People there wore white robes, sang in wonderous voices and, most importantly, seemed to have no faults. Every shade of color could be found there from pale, delicate yellows to harsh, unforgiving browns and blues. Lions watched over herds of sheep and cattle that they never harmed. No one grew older, and no one had reason for despair in this place. It was amazing to think that such a place could exist so close to the land of nothingness that some unlucky few called home.
Even the frigid land to the south would have been welcome home to these lost people in their lifeless void. That frozen battlefeild where fire and ice mixed in the deadliest of ways. Pain and suffering gripped the cold, clothless souls that wandered here in search of shelter they knew they would never find, and a death that would not grip them. Fire, frozen by the air licked across their bodies leaving terrible scars. Blood dripped down their famished frames, cold because of the nature of the area, but never freezing so as to torture its master as much as it could before eventually slipping into the land, feeding the beast they called home. Yes. Even such a place would have been a welcome curse as opposed to the gray wasteland they had to dwell in.
But the man with the spear, crouching against the fading grey of the cliff face looked out on the desolate area and smiled. His hair was a deep crimson, faded only because of the countless years he had spent in this wretched place. Twin fires, raging with untold passion and charisma sparked from his black eyes that caught every detail around him. A thin, yet muscular frame could be seen beneath what was left of his shirt and pants. With his smile he stood and nodded to himself, taking a final look over the land as he began to speak in a calm, surprisingly soft voice. "Let the wings of my sister carry me away..." Taking a single step he began to plummet down towards the spikes of earth, waiting to claim him as an eternal part of themselves...