[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
It could be said that once a forest stood here, but that was no longer true. Whatever trees once reached toward the sky were now nothing more than dust. Now it was a clearing, if such a word could describe something so vast. More than a dozen kilometers stretched in every direction, empty and desolate. No trees. No rocks. No whisper of anything that resembled nature or life.
Only dust. A flat, barren sheet of dust rolling in long waves each time the breeze dared to cross the wasteland.
Above it all, the sky looked wrong. The gloomy gray of heavy clouds was split open, as though some titanic force had punched straight through them. An enormous hole gaped above, revealing a perfect blue far beyond.
And at the center of this newly made scar on the world stood Dante.
He did not move. His silhouette remained perfectly still.
("I was right. She hasn't changed at all.")
The thought was dry and weary.
