It was just after Krael had finished cleaning himself up, just fresh out of the expensive waters that were mysteriously always warm and ready for him, that he found himself mysteriously and suddenly standing in an expansive and seemingly barren field. The ground was dry, cracked, and broken, the result of years of neglect and a lack of proper care. Even weeds did not grow here, as the conditions were too brutal for it to support life.
He could feel the sorrow that drenched the land weaving itself through every single grain and kernel of dirt that made up his field; stones wrecked the land like cancerous growths that would just not heal, and one could feel the frustration the land carried within itself. It cried out to the world and any that would hear it for the healing it so desperately needed. But the cosmos refused to answer. Eons passed, and the land remained unchanged—silent, forsaken, beaten, and dishonored from doing what it was meant to from beginning to end.
