It was a sunset that captured all, yet it let go of every single thing that it captured, a scene which spoke in a thousand languages yet kept its mouth shut, a graveyard that was filled with the souls of the people who sacrificed their lives, an empty place where nobody except the Four Winds have visited for aeons. It was a place of eternal silence that told an endless string of stories, a place which should have been held in high regard, yet everything was dead. The stones marking the eternal resting places of heroic men and women were chipped, moldy, and the shine of the eternal sunset revealed their faults for the eyes of the world to see. Not even the dead grass moved as the Four Winds swept across the plane, making their yearly visit in the place once again, still seeing that the place of the eternal sunset was as abandoned as ever, and that the sun shined as fiercely as ever, slowly destroying this once great monument.
Why? Why is it that this beautiful meadow, that this wonderful memory must be destroyed? The Four Winds did not understand. Why did humans leave these gravestones here that marked the resting places of their heroes, only to leave it alone? The Four Winds had no answer to that question either. They had no answers for any question, only the sorrow in their hearts answered their thoughts. Only the voiceless touches of the dead souls answered their wails. Only death, with their eternally sharp scythe, was there to answer the questions of the Four Winds, and he made the promise to never tell the secret of the eternal sunset. He made a promise to never reveal why these gravestones have been set here and why they have been abandoned.
Yet the Four Winds continued to wail and encircle the gravestones. They continued to blow through the fractures and the cracks, they continued to ask the dead souls their questions, hoping that one day, they will get an answer. They continued to swirl and dance around death's eternally sharp scythe, unafraid of their own ends, for they knew of the role that they played in nature, and knew that death would never harm them. Year after year, they never gave up, always bringing the scent of distant flowers to the graveyard, the joy of the people who have forgotten about these heroic souls that rested in the place of the eternal sunset. Their concern was genuine. Their questions were honest. Their devotion was endless. So, in the end, death took pity on them and told them why these graves are never visited by humans, why they were left alone to crumble into ash and dust just as the bodies buried in them.
As death told the story of the great heroes in the graves, the winds lost interest one by one, except for the North Wind, who listened to the story with increasing fascination and delight. Only he remained until the end of the story, and he was the only one who still thought that he had to bring joy to this place of eternal sunset. But, as he was the North Wind, he could bring nothing but cold, famine and destruction. Knowing that his presence would only destroy this magnificent graveyard, the North Wind made a promise to avoid the place of the eternal sunset as long as he lived, and to pass on the sorrow that lied in the place. He collected the wails of the heroes, their forgotten promises, their broken vows, their rage and their wrath, then took them with himself so he could spread them all over the world.
But during his long journey, the North Wind lost these emotions, which spread themselves amongst the other winds, who made them into their own toys and devices. Enraged at their behaviour, the North Wind confronted the other winds with all his might, but he ended up losing even what remained of the emotions that he carried with him. Only the rage of the long-forgotten heroes remained with the North Wind, which he locked in a purse and kept with himself. Now, every time the Four Winds meet, the North Wind unleashes the rage of the damned souls, stirring up mighty roars in the sky as he fights with the other three to take back what was once his.
