one hundred fifty-five years had passed since Robin first entered the Mid-Sector one hundred - on the forsaken planet of Zerph. Upon one of the tallest peaks, where snow never fell but the wind howled like ancient beasts, a lone figure stood against the sky.
He was clad in a full suit of obsidian-black armor, its surface adorned with mesmerizing golden filigree that shimmered like stardust. Draped behind him, a long golden cloak billowed violently in the cold winds - emblazoned at its center was the unmistakable insignia of a black flame, burning not with heat, but with meaning.
With measured grace, the armored figure accepted a small scroll, its paper bound by an arcane seal still faintly glowing. Without hesitation, he crushed the seal in his palm with a crack, and unrolled the parchment between both gauntleted hands.
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