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Description
The snow fell from the heavy and dark sky filled with clouds.
All the walls, all the roofs covered in white reflecting the pour light emanated by the scars in the heavens.
The great gates of the village opened, the mist departed and an immense shadow appeared.
His armour was large, heavy and grey, his cape crimson and full of fissures caused by the ages, his sword dropped the blood of his comrades and rivals that were left behind, burning the remaining grass that could be seen.
His sins hade been written in many books, books that told the story of creation and the destruction of the world. Those books will be remembered through generations, and that person as the one who ruined empires and shattered civilizations. The man who carried the cross, the man who carried the weight of the world in his shoulders.

The bells of high tower of the church, located in the centre of the village, sounded and stroke only six times.
The candles in the wind, the souls of the people hidden in they’re homes trembled before his presence, and his footsteps remained engraved in stone road of his path.
His silver hair, his fatigued body showed that he has been through all, through the narrow and hollow gorges of the world.
He was a wise man, a man who has long ago set himself free of the chains of human sorrow and despair.
His will comparable with the faith in the god that he fought and knocked down.
His force comparable with the hope of the guardians of hell.
The scrolls of the ancient represented him as the saviour of the kingdom, the prophecies of the elders as the reincarnation of good.
He stands alone, in the war, in the world, in his mind, in his thoughts.

A storm was forming, and the thunders could be heard from a great distance.
The streets were deserted, there was no sound. But far away another shadow could be seen.
He continued to walk. His journey would never end, his desire for the truth couldn’t be achieved, but he had never quit, he had never stopped believing.
He approached his foe, and he elevated his blade in the air parallel to the shooting stars.
Maybe this was the reason that he was hunting. Maybe this was his reason for living.
And when he was attacking, with the strength of all the struggles he had faced, of all the enemies he defeated, he couldn’t move, he was unable to act.
He dropped his weapon and knell, crying.

He looked towards the shadow in front of him, and it draw near him.
A little girl stood still staring directly at his eyes. Her hair was black, her eyes were dark, were deep and powerful, her presence was beautiful and eternal.
She tried to reach his hand but he retreated. She ran to him and passed her hand trough his face in a caring way. She said – don’t be scared I know how you feel. I only want you to be happy, I promise…

Description
The snow fell from the heavy and dark sky filled with clouds.
All the walls, all the roofs covered in white reflecting the pour light emanated by the scars in the heavens.
The great gates of the village opened, the mist departed and an immense shadow appeared.
His armour was large, heavy and grey, his cape crimson and full of fissures caused by the ages, his sword dropped the blood of his comrades and rivals that were left behind, burning the remaining grass that could be seen.
His sins hade been written in many books, books that told the story of creation and the destruction of the world. Those books will be remembered through generations, and that person as the one who ruined empires and shattered civilizations. The man who carried the cross, the man who carried the weight of the world in his shoulders.

The bells of high tower of the church, located in the centre of the village, sounded and stroke only six times.
The candles in the wind, the souls of the people hidden in they’re homes trembled before his presence, and his footsteps remained engraved in stone road of his path.
His silver hair, his fatigued body showed that he has been through all, through the narrow and hollow gorges of the world.
He was a wise man, a man who has long ago set himself free of the chains of human sorrow and despair.
His will comparable with the faith in the god that he fought and knocked down.
His force comparable with the hope of the guardians of hell.
The scrolls of the ancient represented him as the saviour of the kingdom, the prophecies of the elders as the reincarnation of good.
He stands alone, in the war, in the world, in his mind, in his thoughts.

A storm was forming, and the thunders could be heard from a great distance.
The streets were deserted, there was no sound. But far away another shadow could be seen.
He continued to walk. His journey would never end, his desire for the truth couldn’t be achieved, but he had never quit, he had never stopped believing.
He approached his foe, and he elevated his blade in the air parallel to the shooting stars.
Maybe this was the reason that he was hunting. Maybe this was his reason for living.
And when he was attacking, with the strength of all the struggles he had faced, of all the enemies he defeated, he couldn’t move, he was unable to act.
He dropped his weapon and knell, crying.

He looked towards the shadow in front of him, and it draw near him.
A little girl stood still staring directly at his eyes. Her hair was black, her eyes were dark, were deep and powerful, her presence was beautiful and eternal.
She tried to reach his hand but he retreated. She ran to him and passed her hand trough his face in a caring way. She said – don’t be scared I know how you feel. I only want you to be happy, I promise…