Waking up on a foreign shore, the prophet slowly staggered to his feet. As beaten and bruised as his body was, his mind had never felt more awake. The early morning light cast itself gracefully across the shore, and he was filled with an invigorating strength. Turning towards elysia, he looked upon a rolling field, filled with grasses and wildflowers. The quiet hum of the machinery buried beneath the fields reminded him that this once beautiful land had grown tainted. He shook the sand from his clothes and, wielding the sword of mikael, set off to do as the angels called.