He wondered if others had ever felt this cold. The light blanket of white that barely coated the surface of both wood and stone gave the entire place an ethereal look. As if Heaven and the Gods above decided this would stand as a shrine, a relic and monument, a preservation of the past. His fingers splayed out to drag themselves across the wall, disturbing the snow that had lay so dormant and untouched. A marring of the delicate scene, a disturbance in such well-preserved history. His hand drifted away as he stepped towards the blocked hallway, head tilted upwards towards the column of white light that flooded inwards and provided the light for the entire section. A snow flake drifted down to land on the tip of his nose. That frosted white cloud melded well with the clear sky and the drifting snow. Chest rising and falling with each increasingly heavier breath taken.
“Where’re ya takin’ me?”
Only the howling wind and the ominous silence greeted him. A hawk flew past the distant column of ruined rock, dipping below out of sight before its screech carried across the vast horizon. A sharp, chilling gust blew through.
“Why’s it ‘ere?”
Silence reigned. The only answer came from the contemplation forced upon Talan as he stood there.
A sole soul stuck in the past.
A lost wanderer wondering more than where his feet were taking him next.
