Joseph, heart hammering against his ribs, clambered through the gaping hole in the prison ceiling, hauling himself onto a small, rocky hill.
Wind rushed through his system.
He paused, catching his breath, the night air crisp, biting with a chill that cut through even the thickest cloaks. Above, the silver moon hung like a watchful eye, casting long, stark shadows across the rich but desolate landscape.
The sky was woven with threads of midnight black, sparsely studded with odd patterns and constellations of stars, their light seeming to struggle against the overwhelming darkness.
Ahead of him lay a field of grass, an unnatural, almost phosphorescent dark green, the wind whispering through the tall blades, their tips shimmering with an unearthly luminescence.
In the distance, strange, gnarled trees, more like massive, twisted stubs, reached up like skeletal fingers against the starry expanse.
