A flash of light peirces the darkness infront of the old house. Weeds scatter the once cobble-stoned walk, and from the flash, a dark figure emerges. Tattered black leather boots sound light thuds against the stones, as the figure moves towards the house, then stops.

In the moonlight, he is revealed. His robes black and faded, his cloak frayed and tattered; a long hood hides the features. He leans on a staff, knurled and knotted, twisted with age, but a dim light shimmers from an orb atop it. A hand, pale but firm, grips the staff, and picks it up and drops it three times against the walk, and the lights in the house slowly turn on. The figure grunts, and slinks towards the door. Setting the staff against the solid oak frame, the figure sets its hand against the door, and leanes his head onto the front of it.

"Home..."

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the remnants