Elara's boots sank into the sodden earth with each step, the relentless rain turning the mountain paths into treacherous streams. She guided her flock along the narrow trails, her eyes squinting against the downpour that had become her world's metronome. The sheep, once white as the clouds above, now bore the grey of the endless skies, their wool heavy with moisture.

The village elders spoke of a time when the sun kissed the land, but Elara knew only the embrace of the rain. The rising sea had claimed the coasts, and with them, the vibrant cities of old. Now, humanity clung to the mountains, their lives dictated by the whims of the sky.

As she reached a familiar bend in the path, Elara paused. Here, the mountain offered a rare gift—a view of what lay below. The world was a mosaic of water and green, the remnants of humanity's footprint nearly erased by nature's indifferent hand. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight, yet it filled Elara's heart with a silent ache for the world that was no more.

With a deep breath, she turned her gaze upwards, where the grey expanse whispered promises of a story untold. The legends of the Cloud Shepherds, those mythical beings who once danced with the winds and commanded the skies, seemed like fanciful tales to most. But to Elara, they were a beacon of hope—a hope that perhaps, the sky could one day be more than just a harbinger of rain.