Silhouetted against the waning sun was a man standing before a simple grave made of a stone with a simple R.I.P. carved crudely upon it. He stood surrounded by an endless waste of snow and ice. The only recognizable landmark was that of a huge unmistakable shape of a city.
The man knelt before the grave placing upon it a staff with a ruby set into the head he stood and smartly turned and headed away from the city hoping to never return to the spot or anywhere near it. For the place was where he lost the last things he cared for in the mortal world. As he faded in to the landscape laughing a terrible twisted laugh an aurora appeared overhead, giving the night a sense of peace and tranquility.