Wailing Seasons PROLOGUE

Prologue

A thick blanket of dried maple leaves swept over the diligent town, and claimed it the season of fall in the land of Eastone. The earth was dry, and rich which nutrients from the dying summer foliage, and despite all of the warm scents wafting from the bakeries, and cosily dressed habitants, the atmosphere was dismal and cold. In the middle of the town, a man stood on death row; remorseful.

There were sounds of wailing and pleading amongst an anxious crowd, which fell silent when they saw the look on the King’s Hand’s face.

“Sir- good sir! Please, I beg of you…I have a wife and-and children-“