Amid a tranquil winter night, a man stands alone beneath a tree located in a clearing at the edge of a forest. Unlike any other typical weathered summer trees, it has huge, pale white bark with branches crowned with still, blue, lucent leaves. As tears trickle down his cheeks, the man engraves a square symbol into the tree with his blood-stained dagger -- a phoenix surrounded by four circles. Suddenly, he wails, dropping his weapon, and places his shivering hands against the cold tree trunk. He starts whispering, “The apogee is upon us,” while gazing at the leaves and grieved. Slowly, the blue, lucent leaves dye red as he incoherently shouts words full of hate.

Contemplating that the life he has lived is already lost.