The moonlight was cast and it splattered itself over the streets. A figure is silhouetted against the glowing black-blue of a night sky, staring up at the stars. The stars who who burn bright and clear as a fact, yelling, shouting their defiance at the icy blackness which surrounds them, that drips down and seeps into the tainted world below. Shining specs of those whose spirits who haven't been smothered by this cold pitch, whose spirits remain, unbroken and true to the sun they wish for. These are the soldiers who walk all the same road, one paved with other's spirits, hopes, and grips to life, crushed by this marching band of followers. Those who are blinded by the light which they pursue cannot see the darkness they leave.