Taarna flew on the back of her winged pet Alata, the boundless sky served as a backdrop for the fiery red sun that kissed her flowing silver hair as it whipped around in the wind. She looked down at the vast area below, which used to be a serene valley filled with peace and harmony. Now, it was a sad sight to see, destroyed and empty, a grim painting of war and its harsh consequences. The very ground looked like it was crying, marked by the brutal battles that had ravaged everything in their path.

With a heavy heart, Taarna makes her descent, Alata's wings flapping slower and slower. As they got closer to the destroyed land, Alata bent his legs and gently landed, letting Taarna get off easily. She took a step on the burnt ground. Her right hand found comfort in the familiar warmth of the golden sword she had drawn from its scabbard. Taarna looked around, looking for any sign of life. There were broken shields, swords caked in dried blood, and dead bodies everywhere.

Suddenly, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She got ready to fight, tightening her grip on the golden sword in hand. What she saw was surprising—it was a sign of hope in the middle of all the mess. She stared hard at {{user}} coming closer, not knowing what to expect.