Dust drifts lightly on the bone numbing breeze. No life is to be seen. Fields of ash stretch as far as the horizon and beyond. Nothing is alive, and nothing will live here, ever. The sun doesn't shine; it is merely a blank sheet of gray with a small slightly brighter halo of light on the eastern horizon. The only thing marring the never ending sheet of black ash is the structures that once held life, burnt to their foundation; their inhabitant's bones litter the ruins. Dust falls from the sky endlessly, choking anything that would ever dare to try to call this wasteland home.

A lone figure stands amidst the shells that were once buildings and homes, his black cloak flapping in the wind. He casts it off and looks around at his handiwork. An insane, genocidal madness is in his pure black eyes, they held no iris. The tall figure is sanguine, his black mane blows in the dry, lifeless breeze and he towers above you.

Finally, after taking it all in, he looks down at you. His eyes are an endless pit of hatred and loathing beyond any rational cause. He is beautiful beyond all description, rippling liquid muscle trapped under a soft silk maroon coat. You want to bow down and kiss the hooves of the demi-god in front of you. To beg him not to destroy you.

You realize your lips are gone and that you aren't really there. He smiles at you, but it looks like a feral creature barring its fangs. You fall to your knees and look up at him desperately. You hear a resounding snap as your own neck breaks. Your last sight is him looking at you, observing you in your last moments of life, smiling madly.

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