Spring came, and flowers bloomed. Summer followed, and the trees changed colour as the flowers gradually withered. Soon, fall arrived, and before long, snow began to fall, covering the once-beautiful landscape in a blanket of white; winter had arrived.
And then, the seasons repeated themselves, year after year.
Raniel remained locked in his quarters. He didn't wish to speak to anyone, nor did he want to see anyone. He spent most of his days alone, barely paying attention to the world beyond his window.
Yet, he couldn't help but gaze at the small opening, as if something or someone would come from beyond the horizon and save him from this agony.
Ilyan sometimes visited him, but not quite as often as before. Their conversations had grown shorter, and the warmth that had once filled their meetings had gradually faded.
