He sat slumped against a tree, surround by a wasteland, his head cradled in his hands, above him the sky flowed like a river of broken chess boards, the black and white squares floating aimlessly in the non-existant current, this was the ruin of a place once beautiful.

"Where am I?" he thought to himself, but only for a moment before it was replaced with a much more frightening thought, "Who am I?"

Trying to remember anything caused his head to pound in pain, it was enough to make him give up. With a sigh he closed his eyes and began to hum a haunting tune, images began to slowly bloom from the darkness of his mind, a stone statue, a necklace, a stormy day. They all had one thing in common, was it meant to be a clue to his name?

"Grey," he whispered caustiously, as if afraid the word would bite, "My name is Grey."