month record rogue 5 3 1

When this consciousness peeled away from the source, it was in confusion. The last thing the source remembered before falling into slumber was the ashes of war covering the vast land, and the hatred of mankind piercing Its body. And so, this tomb also became a place far from conflict. She hides here, unsure of why she was born or where she should go. The other fragments either already had their answers, or were curious, most of them having left the tomb before her. She stays here, enduring the chaos locked within for days, months, years... but all that answers her is silence. Her ears try to listen for sounds from outside. Did blood no longer stain the land? Have the voices of hate gone far away? After an interminably-long silence, she can no longer bottle up her need to know. And so, step by cowering, cautious, trembling step, she pokes her head outside.

Light. The entirety of heaven and earth flooded with that fearsome light that stabs at her eyes, so accustomed are they to the dark that she can barely keep them open.

She resists the urge to retreat, because in that one blinding instant, she glimpses... color.

She decides to take another step, her eyes slowly adapting to the light. She wipes away her tears as she looks around her. Color streams into her eyes, so unlike the sunless black and white of the tomb's innards, and nothing like the yellow sands dyed blood-red in her memory. Here, the gold is that of clouds bordered by the sunlight, the red that of autumn leaves painted in dusken hues. So this is how the land outside the tomb had changed.

The mountains are awash with maple trees. At first glance, they are a uniform red, but closer examination reveals both dark and light shades, their branches and leaves shifting as human children at play shake them. As the sun begins to set before her eyes, distant plumes of smoke rise as the road fills with people hurrying home. She is amazed at the sensation she now feels, some... burning in her breast that stems from some unknown source.

She opens her eyes wide as she takes yet another step forward, wanting to see it all even more clearly, but she soon notices that twilight has hit its peak. Night will soon fall, sapping the land of its vibrant colors. Anxiety sinks in. She instinctively desires to cut the scene before her away from the darkening land, hiding away its rose-tinted everything in her sleeve. She raises her hand. The wind roars, and plants bow their heads, but the mountain's stones do not stir. She lowers her hand, dejected. She is too weak right now, and cannot stow the sight away.