Drops of black muddy battered rain pitter pattered from the ashen-gray sky, each droplet thick and heavy as it hit my bare skin. The air smelled of decay and wet earth, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat hard. Above me, multicolored lightning cracked in chaotic bursts, streaks of yellow, white, and blood-red splitting the ashen gray sky in jagged scars. The thunder that followed was deafening, reverberating through the vast emptiness of the plains around me, a constant reminder of how unforgiving this land had become.
The grassy plains of Ithelvaire stretched out before me, a desolate expanse that seemed to mirror the despair etched into the very laws of this world. It was said that this place had once been thriving, a haven of green and life. But now, as I gazed upon the brittle, ash-like grass swaying in the phantom wind, I couldn't help but wonder how such beauty could have turned into this desolate land.
