The Lonely Star

The blood soaked black fields under the even more crimson sky, without a sun or a moon to illuminate it, were all that was left of the once beautiful green and luscious scenery with it’s flowers and animals and freshly trimmed grass. The forests towering trees were now nothing more than charred stilts hanging in the distance, some still burning (even parts of the field were burning), the sound of the ember chipping away at the wood (or the grass and other plants) was the only sound present other than faint and slow footsteps from a single figure that’d seemed to have survived the onslaught of swords clashing, arrows whizzing and magic bolting. Continue reading “The Lonely Star” »