Ethan studied the figure opposite him. He had shoulder-length silver hair, though from age or otherwise it was impossible to tell, as he had no lines in his face to indicate old age. In fact, the person's face had no blemishes or hair, and looked almost artificial, save for the eyes.
They were deep and clouded, with the experience of immeasurable years dancing in their depths. But he looked no older than nineteen, hardly more than a boy. Curious. He blinked once, and Ethan opened his mouth slightly in surprise, but quickly regained composure.
The boy's eyes had changed. They now reflected thoughts of evil. They showed images of towns and villages from eras past, being consumed by snaking flames. They showed children watching their homes burn, and their families burn with them.
The boy blinked once more, slower, deliberate.
Barren, ruined landscapes. Once lush sanctuaries of Nature, now the forgotten battlefields of some absurd war. A lone figure wandered amid the destruction, bent to the ground, and returned to form holding a small plant. A dandelion, its yellow face singed with black. The figure held the flower out as if it were something repulsive, and relinquished it. As it fell, the boy's eyes clouded over again.
This time, he didn't blink, but his eyes slowly cleared to reveal the scene of a riverbed. A woman lie on the water's edge, in a blue sundress. Her head was being cradled by the hands of a man sitting next to her, as a streak of violent crimson tainted the water steadily flowing beneath the pair.
The man had his face buried in her hair, whispering in the woman's ear a final prayer in an unknown language. He finished speaking, and set her head down in the water, cupped his hands, and poured some water over her face, as if to wash away the intrusion of Death.
He raised his head, and Ethan saw the same eyes he was looking at already, set into the flawless face already fiercely gazing at him, slowly fading away into blackness.