Freedom begins with prophecy.

The cloaked figure walked to the window and peered through. The world hung dark, the clouds lying low as if the earth was evaporating a grey mist. His eyes strained to pierce through the density, even with the magical enhancements. Yes, indeed, the world had changed in his absence. The cloak flickered as a gloved hand reached for the window and pried it open. Its glass cracked from the wear of age, the wood frames rotted by storm and ice, and shattered. Those tiny pieces of diamond sprinkled onto the wood floor boards like rain.

Silence strung its chord as the gloved hand traced the window pane. A white mist seeped from the cracks of the floor boards and wrapped around the figure’s dark boots, working its way around his entire frame until all that defined him was a white cloud of magic. With a pop, Raifen vanished.

A lone flower lay where the window once stood. Defiant and free.