An endless sky becoming one with the ocean so pure thats reflects even ones soul.
On the surface of this vary ocean of Reflections stands the First Hand of Fate, his long white hair fluttring as if the winds exist mearly for him while his dark robes stays motionless, his pale face has no expression, A tall figure that fills one with awe, His emotionless blood eyes staring at a man in front of him,
"Your fate has caught up to you" the First Hand of fate said in a unfazing tone
The man, on his knees, drenched in his own blood, broken sword in his right hand still tightly gripped, eyes filled with nothingness, muttered in a low tone some words that could not be heard.
"What made you think that an insignificant being like you escape your fate, The fate of the likes of you is to struggle and perish, nothing more are the insects like you allowed to even imagin" said the First Hand of Fate while turning around and walking away.
The blood drenched man turned to ashes, the ocean was quit and the sky was still.