The Godforsaken Land. Sunset City.
This was a terminal realm, a world with no future. From the moment it had fallen, seasons ceased to exist. There was no wind, no thunder, no rain, no snow. The last dregs of its depleted world essence were just enough to sustain this small pocket of what could only be described as Hell.
Sunset City was a lily pad adrift in the cosmic void. Its fate was to be either capsized or to sink into the muck, returning to the universal cycle of energy.
And yet, today, a light snow began to fall.
Inside the palace, the city's lord, Wilson, stood by a window with an old man, watching the flakes drift down.
"Is this… snow?" Wilson turned to the elder beside him, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Ancestor, does this mean our world is recovering?"
