This place wasn't a mess of ashes and lava, fire and shadows.
This place didn't have the corrupted spirits of the dead roaming around, demons being their consort.
Breaking apart families and homes.
This place used to be beautiful and lush. You could see the cherry blossom petals float around like the wind, fireflies casting their glow day and night. The trees and grass were impossibly green. Like emeralds. There were so many flowers. So many. I can't fully describe it.
That was until the Ashen came.
And with them, the Wingora fell.
It's been like this for years, no one's been able to stop the Ashen. They take the wandering spirits and turn them into Ashen like themselves. These spirits are the very fabric of our world. Now it's falling apart.
In what seems like our bleakest hour, there came a message.
'Our Darkest Hour.
Molten Lava Mingles With Ashen.
Even They Can Overcome The Gods.
Then The Land Will Truly Become Ashes.
In Their Way, However, Will Stand Five.
The Fire, Bold And Bright,
Their Determination Sparks Through The Night.
The Water, Calm and True,
Their Wisdom Shall See Them Through.
The Land, Strong With Their Command
Like The Rest This War Shall Be Their Final Stand.
The Sky, The Swift Minded Dreamer
This Time They Will Be The Redeemer.
The Forest, Pure and Pristine
Now Their Slate Will Be Whipped Clean.
These Five, Chosen By Fate, The Gods Final Kin
It Is Up To Them To Find The Songs Within.'
Such a strange message, don't you think?
I want to believe that these 'kin' do exist.
I really do.
It's just now, well...It's just a story.
A very hopeful story.