(Castien.)

Giant’s Gate was even more magnificent up close than it was from afar. I probably should’ve expected that, considering it could be seen from scores of miles away.

It’d taken us the better part of a week to actually reach it, at least after we’d glimpsed it off the highest point of the canyon wall we’d been traveling along for a good while before that.

From there we’d been brought down into a small little oasis at the bottom of the ridge-line. Some small plants bloomed along stretching rivers and bubbling water pools.

The appearance of the unexpected locale had given us a good moment to rest under the shade of the palm trees and a chance to refill our water barrels.

Of course, as we rested, Nazanin had been met with more complaints from the still collared, yet tentatively former slaves. As was to be expected, many of them weren’t at all happy with the current situation.

That said, being level 0 commoners, they hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to try and survive the harsh desert themselves or to challenge the formidable, yet level headed, elf’s authority—if they ever would.

All of the growing discontent aside, the next leg of the journey, however, had been pretty harsh.

Once the flora and streams had all thinned out, the domineering sun had once more reasserted itself overtop us.

We had water, and had plotted our course to allow us to be able to refill it regularly. However, we still had to provide ourselves an emergency buffer of fluids held in reserve; and, underneath the heat of the sun, just a little hydration was never enough.

At one point, I’d suggested to Nazanin that we should travel by night.

The elf, however, had informed me that many of the desert’s most dangerous creatures were nocturnal.

These night-treading monsters would apparently be attracted to the sound of our movements if we chose to move by the cooler glow of moonlight.

Our inability to avoid the harsh rays of the high sitting sun was just another new, stark reality of this world that I was still coming to know.

Traveling by night, when weather conditions made it more logical, was an old military principle—as old as time itself. However, apparently not all of my old world’s tactics could be applied to Arden.

Even still, despite us heading the elf’s warnings and no traveling by night, my high Perception score would still pick up on strange sounds throughout the evening hours. Those of skulking threats in the dark that seemed to stay just out of reach of proper identification; at the worst of times, I’d think I’d catch glimpses of lithe shadows moving in the far off-darkness, but despite my efforts I could never fully make them out.

For my part, I did my best to better integrate with my fellow travelers throughout the nights, at least before we’d all bed down from our shared exhaustion; though, the group thinking I was a child did little to help me communicate with them on an even playing field, it did somewhat serve to make many of them seem friendlier towards me.

Apparently, as far as the people of the convoy were concerned, the desert was well known to be haunted. Night ghosts they were called; the souls of lost travelers, buried gaunts, and unseen oddities were all said to patrol the darkened world of the Winding Wastes.

I wasn’t sure if everything the superstitious people of the convoy said was true.

Nazanin seemed to very much believe there were very real monsters out there in the dark and, hell, we’d already seen some in the form of the sand crawlers.

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Still, if magic and demons could exist in this world, and souls too, then I wasn’t anywhere near ready to dismiss the existence of ghosts.

Eventually, however, we made it to the massive, rising gauntlets that made up Giant’s Gate.

Each appearing almost as tall as a grand skyscraper on their own, the gauntlets appeared to be something once worn by a towering god.

Plants grew all around the shining metal, peeking out from blackened cracks in the armor, despite there being little foliage of the type nearby elsewhere.

The gauntlets themselves seemed to grip the tops of the massive walls of rocks that rose off to either side of them, almost as if they had yanked the earth up into the sky via a truly titanic strength.

Between the two gloved hands there existed a wide opening that was big enough for over a dozen wagons to ride through at a time.

The bottom of the gauntlets, however, were firmly buried beneath the blowing sands; though I wondered if yet more of a truly colossal being existed buried below and—if so—why no curious and daring explorers had yet tried to excavate it.

I wasn’t personally of a mind to do so, but I was pretty sure there had to be someone interested enough.

Though maybe even the inhabitants of this strange world had lines they didn’t cross and places where they wouldn’t tempt fate.

Images of a giant and angry titan awakening from beneath the earth flashed into my mind. However unlikely that scenario might have been, I wasn’t so sure anyone would be able to deal with a creature capable of reshaping the land itself.

Throughout our journey, Nazanin had taken to teaching me how to properly ride a horse. The virtual reality games from my past life made the movements of a mount somewhat familiar and this new world rewarded me with skill points quickly in response to my past knowledge.

Adapting my old memories to my new body was the only barrier to becoming proficient in horseback riding. It seemed virtual reality had held my hand in this regard more so than Arden was willing to.

Nevertheless, I was capable of controlling a horse fairly well by the time we’d reached Giant’s Gate and had power-leveled the corresponding Riding skill pretty handily as a result.

I now rode beside Nazanin as we moved beneath the awe inspiring sight of the gauntlets.

“What is this all from?” I asked.

“No one knows,” she replied. “There are stories, guesses, but nothing that is more than myth. Whether the thing beneath the sands is a giant, demon, or god’s avatar will change depending on who you question.”

“Are we even sure there’s anything down there at all?” I asked.

“No, I guess we are not,” she replied.

We continued to chat on the other things the elf had seen in her travels as we continued on underneath the shade of the strange landmark.

Apparently, the warrior woman had traveled far in her youth. And, even though she was still considered relatively young by elven standards, she was nonetheless a font of wisdom when compared to my inexperience with this new world.

The woman spoke of endless stretches of pink-flower covered mountains, lakes of fire, scorched wastelands roamed by ember-glowing plant monsters, and more. She’d seen much to tell about; and, no matter how awe inspiring, I never doubted the truth of her words.

Eventually, our conversation stilled as my large ears perked up.

A slight laughter filled my hearing. It was feminine and troublesome, but didn’t match anything I’d heard in our long days of travel.

The world around us seemed to ripple as if in a bad mirage.

I looked to Nazanin who instantly pulled her horse to a stop and signaled for the caravan to halt as well, but by the time she had the elf and all of the convoy was already disappearing from around me.

I blinked and I seemed to be in an entirely different place now.

Thick trees, of the kind more at home in a European forest than a fantasy desert, surrounded me now.

For a singular moment, I thought I still felt the heat of the exposed sun, but even that too seemed to fade away and only a slight breeze soon remained to touch my skin.

The wind smelled of… blueberries and a waft of cinnamon?

I heard the giggle again and quickly snapped my eyes up.

My horse pawed at the ground as I met the porcelain like eyes of the most peculiar creature I’d ever yet seen in real life.

A small gnome, almost out of a storybook and with a red little hat, stared down at me from where it sat on a thick tree branch.

I had to stare back at the creature for a few moments to truly believe that it was there.

Without ceremony, the thing jumped down from where it sat. It’s little, squat body plummeted through the twelve feet below it and landed hard on the ground. For what it was worth, it didn’t tumble, no matter how ungraceful it appeared, it merely landed firmly on its little, curled boots.

My body recoiled slightly at the sudden movement and my hand reached to the sword that I’d secured in the scabbard I’d taken off of Alister’s body after securing the merchant.

Seeing my somewhat defensive movement, the little redcap raised its hands, palm outwards, and shook its big head. It smiled with its lips, but didn’t show its teeth or speak.

Instead it just gestured backwards with its oddly shaped head. It seemed to indicate the winding cobble and dirt road behind itself that we both now stood upon.