The rain could not wash away the ashes of the fires it doused. Too many lay dead, scorched bodies littering the burnt fields, as the sun raised behind the clouds. It was a brutal end to a brutal night and yet the work had just begun.
Bodies carried off, memories of the night's events burn into the minds of all that were gathered. Tears hidden by the rain's gentle embrace, and within all the tragedy, the seed of something great.
A story began, a path taken, and a destination that leads back to the beginning. The cycle must close, but, for that to happen, it must also open. That is the fate of all things and for no one is it more true than our heroes.
Each will make their own way yet find themselves tracing well-trodden paths. They will look out at their futures and try to change their destinies. But their stories have already played out over, and over again.
They cannot escape, it will find them.
The end comes for us all.
The end comes for us
T e end comes f r
end c mes
end