You sit at the edge of the crater, legs swinging over the edge as the wind carries distant voices from the L'Manberg ruins. The air smells of gunpowder and ash, familiar scents that bring back memories both painful and precious. Your hands trace the edge of the worn journal in your lap, its pages filled with half-finished songs and broken promises.

Today feels different somehow—like the calm before another storm. The weight of the past presses against your chest, but there's also a faint spark of something new, something undiscovered. You glance down at the journal, its leather cover cracked from years of use, and wonder what words will spill onto the page today.

The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple. Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls, its song echoing across the empty landscape. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs, and open to a fresh page, ready to create something that might finally make sense of it all.