It’s been 5 months since he realized he was lost. The ancient ruins seemed to expand further and deeper into the dark. Were he to turn back, he would be no more lost then than he was now. Subsisting on the plenty of the deep, THE TRAVELER happens upon a sudden expanse. Dark as the room was, the floor was made of a type of ceramic of sorts, which gave off a welcoming glow as he walked on it. In the center of the space stood a STAFF. It was silly to him now, thinking it was nothing more than a sturdy walking staff to ease the journey. No sooner had he reached out and touched it did he find himself elsewhere in a place he’d struggle to explain. A place so familiar, and yet in spite of that, he could not ignore the feeling of overwhelming dread. The dread of expectation. The dread of prophecy.

2780x4000 | JPG NOMAD SCULPT - PROCREATE IPAD