The shadow of the ruined city loomed over the man as he entered it.

The entrance looked ancient, a once magnificent monument now left forgotten. Many old symbols adorned it, though they were unreadable due to the passing of time.

The man traced his fingers through the markings in the thick stone. They felt ancient and alien, though not as unforgiving as the harshness of the wilds.

He looked towards the streets of the city. They were empty, and barren. The weathered colors suggested it had once been a place full of life. He could almost imagine the once bustling streets...

"What happened? Why aren't there any people?"

As the man walked through the city he saw how the interior of the city wasn't in a much better state than the exterior. The streets were uneven, the pavement cracked and filled with debris. Buildings stood on each side, with weathered facades, and almost seemed to be bending due to old age. Rusted signs stood in some parts, but the man couldn't read them.

The man's footsteps echoed as he walked, swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence. No birds, no insects, only the faint and distant howl of wind could be heard. Just the city, vast and empty.

There was beauty in its desolation.

As he wandered deeper, the man noticed the structures grew stranger. Some buildings partially sunk into the earth, as if swallowed by the desert itself. Others stood precariously, warped by forces he could not name. Streets led nowhere, twisting in on themselves. Staircases climbed to the sky, ending abruptly in the open. Though it wasn't a big city its laberyntic nature made it hard to navigate.

The man explored some of the more eye-catching houses. As he tried entering several homes he realized that most of them

were empty, aside from basic furniture. After some time searching, though he managed to find a new cloak, hanged on a chair in a small house. The man had finally been able to get rid of the disgusting skin cloak he had carved from his place of awakening.

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That wasn't the only lucky occurrence, he also managed to find a well which still had water in it!

Granted, it was murky and brown in color but it still refreshed his throat. While his new condition had given him more endurance he had been feeling quite thirsty. With his urges quenched, and new clothing the man felt a slight happiness, something he hadn't felt since waking up.

Then he heard it.

A wet, rasping breath.

The man froze. He had not been alone after all.

He turned his head slowly. Against a crumbling wall, partially hidden in the ruins, sat a figure. At first, the man thought he was dead, but the rise and fall of his chest indicated breathing.

He was slumped against the stone, wrapped in tattered cloth that had once been robes. But it was his face, rather what was left of it, that held the man's attention.

From the nose up, the flesh was gone. Not burned, not torn, but simply… absent. It was a smooth, unnatural wound, as if something had erased the top half of his head. Yet, he was alive. The lower half of his face twitched as he mumbled to himself.

The man swallowed and decided to step closer. "Who are you?"

The wounded man jerked as if noticing him for the first time. He coughed, then let out something between a laugh and a wheeze.

"A living human" the wounded man rasped. His voice was raw, distant. " A rare sight these days... You're not the first. though. Won't be the last either."

The man hesitated. "What happened to this city?"

The wounded man's expression twisted to form a smile. He extended three things from his hand. "Three Things". he whispered. "Time. Fate. The things that walk between."

The man trembled "And you? What did this to you?"

The wounded man chuckled in a croaked laugh. "I saw them. I saw what wasn't meant to be seen." His fingers twitched. "And it took."

"I was once a protector, yet borrowed strength comes at a cost. This was mine"

"A protector?" The man asked

The wounded man stopped being coherent and started to ramble madly

"Ah, I see movements in the dark. You see, my eyes are not here. They are in a void, in Eternal Night"

The man stared, unease pooling in his stomach . He tried switching questions. "What do you know about this world?"

The wounded man turned his head slightly as if gazing beyond the ruined city. "Nothing. And everything. The world moves, but the rules are broken. People come, but not all leave." His voice dropped to a whisper. "The land is sick. It remembers."

A gust of wind swept through the streets, sending a shiver through the man. The wounded man laughed again, a dry, empty sound.

"You should leave," he muttered. "Before it remembers you too."

The man said nothing. He only stared at the ruined city stretching before him, a graveyard of history and things best forgotten.