A dark shadow falls across the land before him, intimating the storm to come. Across his cheek, brushing his shoulder, the particles collect for a fleeting moment before dissipating on his skin. The earth bubbles up and is carved into ravines as the sediment sweeps away. He holds his hands aloft, grazing the fragments as they float upwards and catch the light. Solid, looming, and massive, a pyre appears to grow from the brittle silt that remains. Flames lick at its strong pillars, staining the milky, white form. From the tip of the flame, black veins emerge. Swirling onto themselves in search of virgin surface, they begin to taint the fine-grained purity of the transmuted material. Blackened shards are piled high to ensure no chance of remains. Smoke begins to fog the pyre. A loud scream pierces the air and the man cannot distinguish between the past and the present.