October 10, 1 A.C.E.
The wind is howling across the dry, cracked ground at blistering speed, sending long tendrils of sand soaring across the rough, uneven terrain. Despite the speed of the wind, it does little to reduce the unbearable heat of the sun blazing overhead. The mountainous terrain is harsh and unforgiving, and the heat only makes it more dangerous.
Beneath the bright red sky, a lone figure trudges across the landscape, his filthy tan cloak billowing about him. Head covered with a hood and face obscured by a mask, necessary for navigating this terrible place, he hunches over against the wind and quickly, but carefully, makes his way up the rocky mountainside.
Even through his thick, leather gloves, the rocks burn his flesh, forcing him to keep a brisk pace. But he had long ago grown accustomed to this hellish place. After all, it is now one of the few habitable parts of the planet.
Shortly, he crests the peak he's been scaling and looks out over the infamous location before him. No one from before would ever realizes that this is in fact the Northern Crater of legend. The area's ferocious blizzards have been replaced by terrible sandstorms, carving the snow-capped peaks into rough, jagged remnants of their past forms. Pulling his cloak closer, the young man makes his way down into the crater itself, eager to find shelter and a temporary reprieve.
The planet has changed much recently. Safety has long ago been cast away for many, and these days, death seems a much more inviting ordeal than struggling on to the next day. Those few who survive do so by clinging to the last shreds of hope they have: the hope that one day, everything will be fixed and life will be returned to the way it once was...