An angry purple stains the skies, blotting out the stars far above. Off in the distance, brilliant shards of lightning are thrown down to the ground, each flash reflecting off jagged mountain peaks. A slow, rumbling echo filters across the wastelands.
I stand here, next to a lone, withered tree. A breeze whips up and quickly escalates into a hurricane, yet for all its force I can still stand upright, eyes clenched firmly shut. When the winds have died down, the tree is not only still there, but it has returned to life, its branches sprouting new growths. It is a lone survivor in a land of sadness, only now finding a companion in myself, another survivor.
The ground falls away yet I remain held in place, suspended in mid-air. The storm is closer now, lightning lashing out, as if beckoning towards me. As it snakes across the sky it burns after-images into my eyes that seem to flash with incandescent colours. It is a dangerous light show, beauty that fades away all too quickly. A rip in t