From the Dunling Tower, the current view of Old Dunling presents a rather splendid scenery.
The lead-gray clouds are crushed by the golden sunlight, beams of light fall one after another, illuminating the streets and the still receding tides, the golden glow overwhelming the painful gray-blue, enveloping everything within a world of gold.
Though the sunlight isn't scorching, it casts a warm sensation on one's body, dispelling cold dread and offering some comfort.
In the sky, there's still fine rain falling, softly and gently, but compared to the previous storm, it is undoubtedly much gentler, falling in light drops with a playful bounce.
Lorenzo sits expressionlessly on a mound of piled rubble, overhead the remnants of the Broken Dome, which shield him from the falling drizzle.
