You have traveled many miles, in search of the legendary skies of the fallen.
Your wings are heavy and tired, you seem to fall a few feet with every flap.
Over the horizon of the cloud-topped mountains, into your veiw, comes a land, white mist seems to carpet it.
You suddenly find yourself speeding towards it, the wind and its magic diving you down.
You land perfectly on your feet, only to lock your gaze onto a large, black, white-winged wolf.
He is old, but he smiles warmly all the same.
Welcome to lands of the fallen, where the angels of the skies rule supreame.
Our old leader, Mithras, once reigned over us, guiding us in our ways.
Now he is dead, and the battle to fill his place has begun.
Do you think your worthy to behold the crown of the heavens?