Story
Under a storm-covered sky, he was walking alone. His face was covered with a veil protecting him from the sand, and his grey eyes pierced through the fog. He tightened his grip on a heavy sword hanging from his waist, and the water jar swayed on his back. The wind howls, and the sand strikes his body mercilessly, but he does not stop.
From atop a sandy hill, an old man stood watching him in silence, a faint voice echoing in the air: “Why are you doing this, Erold?”
Erold continued walking, even as his body began to collapse. Inside him, a voice screams: “No… I must not stop now… I promised him.” Vision fades, and his steps weaken. He looks at his feet; they are barely moving.
“No… no… I must continue…”
“Then… darkness.”
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