The world was on fire and Sola was to blame. There he stood in a gargantuan crater on the back of a being made of porous grey stones. Littered all over the back of this stone being were the decapitated corpses of men dressed in robes which glistened as though they were made of metal. The grey-haired boy's hands were soaked up to his elbows with blood; their blood which dropped fervorously on the ground.
Towering flames roared all around the crater, swirling around as if it were some cyclone. The flames gave off an awful stench, one of rotting meat bathed in sulfur that had been set ablaze. Within the spiraling flames Sola could make out several dark silhouettes. His ears were filled to the brim with the screams of the silhouettes as they were burned to a crisp. However, despite the agonising pain and destruction the flames brought, the silhouettes did not burn away.
No matter how hard he tried, Sola could not drown out the noises. His own bloodcurdling scream joined the chorus as he put his hands against his ears. Metallic blood oozed out his ears, eyes and nose, dimming his senses. However, it was unable to stop or ease his gut-wrenching torment. Sola's blood began to pull around him, slowly forming a large puddle of a reflective liquid. As he struggled and screamed he was slowly pulled down into the blood until he was completely submerged.
Underneath the liquid metal, the grey-haired man crawled at his throat. His lungs were quickly filled up with the viscous fluid. Sola gagged and struggled as he sunk quickly into the liquid. Before he could sink too far deep, an arm grabbed Sola and pulled him out of the puddle. His body came crashing into the ground causing him to vomit all the blood the blood that had gone down his airway. Sola groaned as he got to his feet. It was then he noticed the screams were gone and the fires were dead. All that was left were him and the one who had pulled him out.
The person who was standing in the now ash-filled crater was a man. He was clad in an azure armour that was scratched and faded. Draped over his armour was a rugged leather jacket that cut short at his thighs. His blonde hair was dirtied by soot and blood. His blue eyes were lightless and his face was lifeless with the only sign of existence present on it being the faint smile worn across his face.
Sola's eyes widened upon seeing this man. They had met here before- but he could not remember who he was. A searing pain racked through Sola's head. Silver nails pierced. The more he tried to remember, the worse the pain became until it was unbearable. He let out another deathly scream as he fell to the ground. Sola reached out to the man through blurry eyes. Before he could get a hold of him, the armoured man turned to ash, scattering into the wind. The ash began to swirl around the grey-haired man until it became a swirl of blackness.
In that instant, Sola was awoken once again by his screams. His torso shot up to a sitting position as he gasped for air. The sun was rising giving the surrounding clearing an orange tint. There was still some residual pain from the dream Sola just had, though he could not remember one bit of it. If he could have his way he would not go through the trouble of sleeping only to wake worse off than he was. However, there was only so far one could push their body, Revel or not.
It had been a month since Sola had left Raudis. The journey had been arduous due to the problems in the form of nightmares and adversaries that had plagued it. He was now near the Osarv Forest which was located in central Pedtro. The closest civilisation to the forest was the city of Minar. The city was a place known for being governed by one of the oldest families on the planet; one as old as the Immortalis. Due to its location, Minar was a constant hub for all forms of travellers, whether they were passersby, tourists or traders. From there Sola could take the shortest on-foot path to the Moonfall Mine.
After checking his paper map Sola began packing up his sleeping bag and other gear. While packing, the crack of a twig breaking under a foot announced itself. Sola shot to his feet and raised his guard. His eyes darted across the edge of the clearing where the trees lay. There had been several mercenaries that had been coming at him as of late. How they were able to locate him, he was not sure. Their incessant assaults had made the second half of his journey rough, hence his unease.
From the forest came forth an old man. With him was a leather satchel in one hand and a polearm in the other. His short wispy hair was a light grey that contrasted with Sola's dark grey hair. He was dressed in large clothes with a baggy jacket that had tears patched with various coloured fabrics. The polearm he held had a 6-foot-long dark oak body with a plain-bladed top. The blade was a double-edged spearhead with two smaller wing-like blades on either side. He was holding a partisan.
As he walked, he swayed from side to side in a drunken manner. His lack of composure made Sola relax his stance. Instead of a mercenary, it was just some random old man who was probably some sort of guard or hunter. Sola turned back to packing his travelling bag. As he turned his back something flew past him at an insane speed. He winced in pain as it grazed his back, leaving a small cut. The grey-haired man's eyes furrowed as he looked to the partisan that had been thrown at him and then to the old man who had thrown it.
The old man took a swing from his satchel and let out a loud burp. His half-opened dark brown eyes were staring lazily at the Silver Bulwark.
"Who, *hic* the hell are you?"