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This album begins a new story within the world of Zeffon.
On an isle far out in the ocean, a man crawled from a piece of driftwood that he had been hanging onto for the longest time. He couldn't remember anything, other than he was supposed to find "them". Although he knew nothing about "them", he was continuously skeptical regarding all this "them" and "they" business. That was one of the things he remembered anyway: Delirious minds were the euphoria of others. He found a forest that led him away from the beach and began to think of things to construct that would spare him the dangers that may descend upon him come the nightfall. He looked about him and found a few items in the brush. There was a strange cloth that glowed ominously as well as what appeared to be a rusty sword. There appeared to be a name engraved on the blade, but it was difficult to make out. All that was known was that it started with an "J". The sun beat down on the shipwrecked survivor, who was becoming hot and beginning to hallucinate. It wasn't necessarily that he had been exploring forever, but something within him desired that he take a quick rest.
The next day, the man made a fort. It wasn't much to look at, but he knew that it was good enough for him to survive in, and thus it was all that he needed. The sun continued to beat down on the dreary lone man and he began to get the distinct impression that he was being watched. His suspicions were sort of confirmed when a much smaller man washed up on the same shore that he had been lying on the day before. The tricky bit was that the smaller man looked exactly the same as the larger one. In fact, the larger man could have sworn that he was staring at a reflection, if it hadn't been that he was lying on the beach. Suddenly, the clouds began to gather and rain began to pour. The larger man decided that he would give the body a proper burial. Within minutes, the rain had soaked the island and ruin the fort that the man had built so carefully to withstand the sun. Shivering, he began to make his way to the cover of the forest that lay on the rather small island. Soon, all would be well.
After dragging the corpse to his shelter, the larger man couldn't brush away the feeling that he was still being observed in some way. He decided that it didn't matter and began to dig into the soft mushy soil below him. The sound of the rain beginning to subside gave him some sense of relief, and he began to mutter to himself. How did he get here? Who were "they"? Why was he trying so hard to search for them? He imagined that he was no longer this victim, but a distant observer, making note of his prey from a hill in a coniferous forest full of dried-up riverbeds and red cedar trees. The vision excited him a little bit, since the victim didn't see him coming until he drew his bow and shot him in the back. The victim cried out, but was quickly and hastily subdued by the power of the arrow, and soon, the victim was dead. As the large man approached his kill, he noted the victim was like the man he was trying so desperately to bury. This man looked less like him given that his neck was horribly scarred, like he had survived an assassination attempt like this before, but was then distraught when he realized he wouldn't be getting out of it this time. The large man then noticed that he was carrying a small slip of paper. It looked like it was ripped out of a tome of some sort, perhaps something that was once incredibly obscure and valuable. The note read something to the effect of "parallels", which didn't strike the large man in any particular way, other than that it was indeed just a random slip of paper. Then he remembered something. His name was Cyane.
He had been dreaming. The corpse was gone. In its place was a hand, one made of stone.

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