Prologue

A figure was walking under the shadows of branches and leaves that were painted in flaming colors. Each steps made a small crunch on the dead leaves that rested silently on the track of the forest and under his boots. The air was slowly getting chilly as winter was slowly manifesting its coming, causing a faint mist to come out of the man's mouth on each exhale.

The said man was wearing a cloak, dusty blue in color. His hood was on, hiding the features of his face, wich he preferred to be hidden anyway…for personal reasons we will see later. Three scabbards were hanging after a belt at his waist. Two on his left, one on his right.

The ones on his left seemed rather old, grudged by time. One of them was slim, like if it was made especially for a certain type of sword. The guard emerging from it was flat and round, golden in color. The hilt was coal black.

The other, still on his left, was painted in a dark color…spots of dark crimson were seen all the long of the sheath. Its shape was larger than the slim one, and a bit longer also. The guard of this blade was curved to the interior, each ends having some sort of fangs. At the middle of it was crested a tiny emerald, maybe 1 inch in diameter. No less, no more. The hilt had nothing interesting to be described.

The unique blade hanging to the right of his waist was the most taken care of, if we based ourselves on the appearance. The sheath was highly decorated by small lines of gold and silver snaking all the long of it. The guard was carved in shapes of leaves, all the way up to the end of the hilt. In the middle of the carved forest was resting a small emerald, shaped in a diamond form. The blade seemed very light for its size, and rarely used by its wielder.

The cloaked man looked up to the track in front of him, trying to see if there was an end to it. No signs of end, or civilization could be seen yet. Some words then escaped his mouth. His voice was rather low, and seemed…pained. Even tortured, if we could say so.

"…Good…the less I'll see a town… the less I will go out of control again…"

The man sighed and stopped his long walk to take a short break. He looked around for a place to rest. His hidden eyes spotted an old oak not too far away from him. Its branches seemed strong enough to support his weight, wich was anyway not really much. He was pretty thin, a bit too much as some could say... He walked to the fortune "shelter" and started to climb in it, getting to a high branch. His left leg hung in the air, his right one resting on the branch.

The man finally lowered his hood and revealed firstly his hair. They were mid-long, falling over his forehead and a bit over his left eye. It was of a dark brown and seemed a bit uncared, dirty. The face hidden under the hair was a bit in the same style. It seemed old...a bit older than it should be in fact. Pain and sorrow could be seen in the traits of his face. His chin and cheeks were covered by a more or less shove beard, giving him a rogue aspect. The most striking thing on his face though, was his right eye. Plain white in color, empty of any pupil. Three scars were passing over it. One was larger than the two others, situated in the middle of the brand trio. His left eye was pretty normal, of a chestnut brown tint.

He looked between the many trees idly, almost lost in thought. He crossed his arms on his chest, leaning his head back against the old trunk. He looked to the clear sky between the dying branches, his eyes following the fluffy clouds or the leaves falling to the ground in a graceful dance. He sighed and closed his eyelids over his eyes. He took a deep and long breath, inhaling the fresh and humid autumn air.

A cool breeze then blowed, brushing the ground of the leaves covering it. The man looked down at the trail and the leaves letting lazily themselves being moved away. He envied them. He wanted to be like that...to go with the wind freely without any worry. But he couldn't, not anymore. Maybe in some near future he would be able to once again...but he highly doubted it.

He closed his eyes again and sighed deeply. He sat there, letting the wind ruffle his hair a bit, and listening to the music of leaves being blown away and the soft whistle of the wind.