Looking down at his hands, the thoughts swirling of the things he had done. Five years since the Storm had wreaked havoc upon Tristal. Five years, since he lost almost all of his memories, who had he been before? He wasn't sure if had been a good person, and he wasn’t sure if he was a good person now. He had fought demons almost every single day. Now he was fighting both the Rebellion and the demons, his convictions were always questionable, but now they were hanging by a thread. All he wants is to know who he is. He splashed water on his face from the bathroom sink.

He looked at himself in the mirror. A man with heavy stubble on his chin stared back, brown hair, and eyes like honey. A broken man with no name to call his own. Just a code. He looked past the scar escaping from his heart and looked deep into his soul. A mountain of cold met him, but the man sitting at the summit never moved, never answered his calls, the blizzard thickened shrouding any features he might have made out into a thick fog. Coming back to himself he straightened himself, tracing the long cut that had once adorned his chest, only to be covered with silver scales. What had given him so many scars? What kind of person had he been? That didn’t matter to the people that he worked with, the Royal Knights only knew him as Cobalt.

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