His journey took hours.
Clouds tore apart as a black figure blitzed through them and began to plummet, his cloak whipping upward and spreading behind him like a banner.
Like a black meteor, the Unknown King struck a valley below. The impact sent a roar across the land as water burst from shallow puddles around him, scattering into the air before raining back down.
All around him knelt sculptures of people, their hands raised as though they were pleading for something.
The Unknown King looked again and realised they weren't sculptures at all.
They were people.
None of them wore clothes, and their bodies were unnaturally perfect, especially for so many people gathered in one place. Yet some were missing their lower jaws, while others had lost hands or other pieces of themselves, broken away by beasts or demons that had passed through the valley.
