Crow gives a wave and vanishes as the scenery melts into something else. The nothingness becomes... Something. A bleak grey desert of ash, black weapons sticking into the ground stretching to the horizon. The sky is grey and cloudy and a chill wind whips torn banners.

Rean sits in a circle barren of weapons, cross-legged and meditative. He's clad in antiquated looking grey armor. But the oddest thing is how tattered shadows cling to and writhe around him like trapped smoke.