Through the weeks of venturing out the wasteland, what they have observed and are certain about the place is that, nothing in it is constant. It is like a human’s ever changing mood. The ambience at times solemn like the forest, other times beautiful like the waterfall and the lake, and every so often, it is the definition of a mayhem. But what is constant, is that the place is ever so odd. Ever so mysterious.
Alexandria looks up at the sky.
Quite a few moments ago, they were as blue as Marmoris’s ocean. But now, it is as gray and dark as the sky of the wasteland, back at the forest where they encountered the undead. Covered every inch of the late afternoon. The difference is that, this sky above them now is actively aggressive. Without a drop of water, yet, the sky roars thunders. Alex
