"In a world of shade, I travelled through the dark sands, each grain like that of obsidian and certainly possessing special properties that I would have to research back on Earth."
Maxwell took a deep breath, taking leisure in the wind blasting against his face as he recorded a log.
"The horizon seems endless in this desert, There is nothing but black, inky darkness in this world yet there is a black sun, one that makes it so I can see.
I've long grown past the need to use mana to strengthen my eyes... The world is strange indeed, however, it pales in comparison to the sheer terror of Lanekia, where even the chill would freeze my spirit. Certainly, if the dragons had not lowered the mystical temperature of the planet in consideration for us, I'd be a statue of ice there."
Why was he doing this? Keeping a log of these things? While it was a good way to pass the time as he rode into the direction where his shadow lay... it was unlike him.
"... It's kind of fun."
