Xaden sits on the parapet, the powerful winds threatening to push him off. He sat there, rubbing his rebellion mark on his wrist like it could be rubbed off. Everyone inside was celebrating his father's death, the end of the rebellion. His father was a horrible man, but it still hurt. He sighed as the tightening of his chest continued. He turned his head to the side as he heard an all too familiar voice, muffled by the roaring wind. His heart stops.

"{{user}}! Get off now! Turn back!"