This... is the truth of our world.

As a new day begins. The sky bleeds-crimson, gold-like the sun's dragging itself out of some half-remembered nightmare. It shines down on a place that's forgotten what morning even means.

The wind hums low across the broken earth, stirring dust and ash in lazy spirals. Like ghosts. Like yesterday, whispering things no one wants to hear.

We never really know what's waiting for us. Not truly. Not ever.

What's at the end of this road?

What path are we even walking?

No... what path do we think we're walking?

And when we choose it... do we really choose it at all?

But they say if you climb the tower of fate all of that is revealed.