Surrounded by lifeless bodies, the putrid stench of death permeates the air, and everything in his vicinity is a grim tableau of demise. Alone, the man lifts his gaze to the heavens. He longs to weep, yet the tears elude him; he yearns to shout, but the means evade him. Thus, he permits himself only the solace of silence.

The departed souls around him whisper, serving as poignant reminders that he is the Last Flame. He pledged to rise, to conquer, and to bear their burdens upon his shoulders. Memories of sworn oaths and battled ordeals flood his mind. Though a desire for respite and to lay down his arms tugs at him, he cannot yield, for he is bound by the promises made. The Last Flame, he bears the torch that pierces the shadows, embodying the hope of his people— and everyone is his people. His uttered word is law.

He is the Last Flame, and solitude envelops him.

*

In the midst of a desert expanse, the air is parched and searing, the heat oppressive, and the ground treacherous. The woman strides forward, fixated on the horizon. The air remains stagnant; sunlight scorches her back and blinds her, yet she presses on, gaze unwaveringly fixed on the distant horizon.

The desert lies dormant; not a grain of sand stirs. She, the Divine Wind, forges ahead with an unyielding determination. A vow echoes within her—never to halt, to overcome all obstacles. In her wake, the wind stirs to life. The Divine Wind, an agent of change, epitomizes the freedom to forge ahead. Hers is the exclusive journey forward, a deliberate choice immune to constraint.

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She is the Divine Wind, and freedom is her essence.

*

In the darkness, the clinking of chains resonates—frigid and chilling. Silence prevails, and the only audible sounds are the chains and the breath of a silent man. In this abyss, bereft of light, two lights captivate his gaze. They cause him pain, yet he cannot divert his eyes.

The abyss remains hushed; only the chains and the breathing of the silent man persist. A slow smile creeps across his face. The Laughing Shadow, he revels in the silent contemplation of two lights in the obscurity. He stretches out his hands towards them, tugging at the chains. In his right hand, the flame, nearly within reach, whispers of hope. In his left hand, the wind, an almost tangible taste of freedom. He nearly grasps them. The Laughing Shadow, a harbinger of chaos, conceals men in his shadow, entices the curious, and greets them with a smile.

He is the Laughing Shadow, so he laughs.

***

In a vacuum, an entity shrouded in shadow occupies a throne of darkness. Before him, an expanse of nothingness, then a resounding voice in the void.

"You are fool; this is forbidden! You transgress rules predating your existence! You might have persuaded the Seconds that your actions served their followers, but I am not deceived! Cease!"

The final word reverberates through the void, a word so potent that within the emptiness, something materializes.

The entity on the throne of darkness gestures, extinguishing the nascent creation; once again, void reigns.

A silence endures.

Then the formidable voice speaks again, this time in a whisper charged with fury and venom.

"You are ignorant of the consequences; the First Ones will retaliate! I will retaliate!"

Once more, silence prevails. The silence and the entity seated on the throne of darkness.