A lonesome dark mountain stood tall against the raging hot winds.
Jagged and proud, it dwarfed other peaks of the mountain chain, cutting the night sky with its sharp edges. A bloody moon bathed its slopes in the ghostly light.
Under that light, a young man with pale skin and black hair sat quietly, gazing upon the horizon.
....
The landscape around Ethan was desolate, the same as him. The barren land stretched out as far as the eye could see, devoid of life or hope. The dark, hollow ground seemed to echo the grim reality of this forsaken place.
It was as if the very soil had been drained of its essence, just as Ethan felt his soul had been.
The pair of black horn protruding from his head—a constant reminder of the transformation he had undergone—marked him as something no longer entirely human.
He sat still, a figure of despair amidst the raging winds of emptiness.
