Another year passes another tear of youth passes, with forever growing itch of fingers to take fate into my own demise to decipher where and when it shall go down.
Staring at the glow of an arura that fate realises, a dull groan rises up I start to pace, fingers itch even more how I am so close yet so far.
The dull yellow light teases and mocks at my hesitation, I take two swift steps in an action in a moment I grasp the arura in my hands.