PANEL 1: Zoomed out shot of icy perched on high, fragmented pieces of mountain. The bridges to the towers have been severed. The night sky shines brightly overhead, the blues, greens and purples of an aurora swirl amongst the stars.
PANEL 2: Shot of the golden winged man, looking up at the sky through the bars of his towers. He's identifying constellations. "... The Watchers. The Serpent is almost in view. Soon The Fisherman will rise. And then The Enchantress."
PANEL 3: Side shot of the man lowering his head, his knees huddled towards his chest. He's adequately dressed in a winter coat and gloves. "One hundred and nine days thus far." he sighs. "It seems that my fate is to sit here until I rot.
