From atop the mountain i could see the foliage in revolt. Fanning forth in multi colored flames, chlorophylic war scorching my optic nerves with raw unadulterated life. It was the decadence that signaled the coming of winter, before the numbness would sweep down from the north, robbing the inhabitants of their breath, leaving them frozen and still. Winter was pawing at the door and i could feel her icy touch in my already burnt lungs. The cold rock beneath me spoke, it creaked and groaned spinning inconceivably fast so that the strands of time could be held in observance. I was reborn this day, atop the mountain, in the end of the fall, before the coming of frost. I was reborn because i saw my duties clear before me. I understood the purpose of the trials. The scales were meant to tilt forever, judging, weighing, and they had found me wanting but pliable to their needs. With this knowledge i set my fears aside, indulging that which has always lived beneath my skin. If i am wrong, then let the sword justice that hangs over all mens heads fall, and let it be true to its mark.