It takes a few minutes to get my bearings. Even now the sick feeling from using my powers continues to stick to me like a bad aftertaste. Whatever I touched was not meant to be used. Or perhaps this is simply the consequence of my power. The thought unsettles me but refuses to budge from my mind.

Holding my body steady I force myself onto my feet. A sharp pain cuts into me. My eyes drift to the bandaged wound on my arm, now seeped with blood, with resignation. I note the pale colour of the wound as I redress it with another piece of my torn pants.

All the visceral image does is remind me of how thirsty I am, and the deep hunger not far behind. My hands reach into my pockets for the water for a hesitant moment before retreating. I have very little water, and a very long walk. The thought of driving myself quicker to dehydration scares me. I’m no survivor. I don’t understand what’s the best choice. I can only do my best.

I step forward, moving past the skeletal remains, and continue moving myself toward the direction of the castle. My exhaustion slows my steps but I force myself to continue as the sun begins to move toward the edge of the horizon. As time passes dark thoughts begin to appear, hiding at the edges of my mind. Thoughts that ask me to give up, to just accept my fate. Skittering, timid thoughts that skirt away the second I look at them but come back all the same. With the sun setting and the darkness starting to take over, my fears feel multiplied.

Those thoughts wear on my mind. Desperate to distract myself I refocus back onto my empathic link skill. I need to decipher a way I can use it without incapacitating myself. It takes a while in my muddled state for an idea to spark, but one does come. I refocus in on myself and feel my own emotions.

I quickly realise I can feel them in the same way I feel other people’s. At least some of the surface ones, with the deeper emotions hiding themselves away from my grasp. Instinctively I reach out to touch them but they slip through my fingers. It feels like a film separates me from them, a layer of something stuck in-between. Perhaps the wording of ‘other sentient entities’ is more exact than I thought. Absorbed in my discovery I fail to notice the large root laying lazily along my path.

My foot catches on it and I fall swiftly, my arms just barely springing up to catch myself before I hit the ground. The impact is jarring but thankfully harmless as a frustrated groan escapes my lips. I pick myself up as quickly as I can and turn to look down at the root with frustration. Just my luck. My already tattered clothes now covered with ash I can only shake my head and continue onward. I pat my clothes just in case, but still feel the warm water and the cold metal inside.

It takes a few steps before I pause, my brain catching up. My eyes widen and I whirl around, a more suspicious frown on my face. This is the first thing that I haven’t seen turn to ash. Coloured a deep purple hue, the thick root has sharp spikes poking out of it at regular intervals. Spikes I thankfully missed.

As I move back toward it and crouch down, I notice how alive it looks. A contrast to everything else in this place. And then I feel it. The barest hint. So tiny I thought I had mistaken it. But it was there. An emotion. A wave of peaceful contentment of all things. It’s a calm feeling, and a strange but reassuring notion.

After a moment’s hesitation I reach out and touch it. Similar to the wave of negative emotion from the skeleton’s, another much smaller wave passes through me. A gentle emotion with the peaceful feeling remaining and a touch of curiosity awakening alongside it. It doesn’t hurt me to touch it, and I feel a heavy relief from that realisation.

I gaze quietly at the sky that has now fully turned to night. Twin moons look down at me like silent guardians. A smaller purple moon just shy of the gigantic orange one that covers half of the night sky. Their vivid glow shines on my face. A comfortable feeling. It had only been a few hours since the fight, the sun having left rather quickly at its end. My gaze falls back down as I feel something touch my leg.

The strange root. Looking at it closer I realise it may be closer to a vine then a root. It scratches against me. Poking my body this way and that like a dog with a bone. I just watch it do its thing, too exhausted to muster up any wariness. It isn’t the strangest thing happening in my life right now. I keep walking, the vine trailing behind me as it gently nudges different parts of my body. The moons travel along the sky in silent rhythm.

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I want to lay down. Eventually that single thought becomes overwhelming. It drowns out my hunger. My thirst. My despair. My eyes fall back to the ground even as I continue to shuffle forward. It is dangerous. But I no longer have the energy to be tense. Nor to fight. If another skeleton reaches me, then that will be my fate.

The vine continues to follow me, nudging me every so often as if to give encouragement. It seems familiar with my path and leads me down it with expectation. Time continues to pass without rest. The bright moons fall to reveal the sun of a new day. My water thins, barely a third of what it was. The vine has long lost its curiosity but still it continues to follow alongside me. A companion that gives me much needed comfort.

My hunger has faded to the background as my thirst grows stronger. I’m dying. A slow, aching death. All the more scary because I can feel every inch of my body giving way, slowly losing the battle of survival. And still I continue, even as that small modicum of hope fades to resignation.

Moons and suns pass in rhythm. The water is gone. I can feel the creeping of death slowly blanketing me, the edges of my vision darkening. I continue to persevere, the world around me long forgotten. Then before I realise it my view shifts and the moons in the night sky above cover my eyes. Ah. I’d fallen. Even that thought can barely register. The vine continues to nudge me but my body can no longer move. It yearns to rest. My eyes want to close. But I know once they do, they won’t open again. Perhaps…that isn’t a bad thing.

…

Drip. Something wet ignites in my throat just before the darkness takes me. My thirst that hid itself away awakens. Water. My body cries out in relief as each drop pours on my tongue, and my eyes open to greet the vine hanging over me. It continues to let out steady drops of water from its tip, its body swaying slightly as it encourages me. The hope that had turned to ash sparks alive, and I drink the water desperately. If I could speak, I would offer thanks. But the water only sates the edges of my thirst. Words are still far off for me.

One hand and another and I’m up on my feet. My aching body ignored. I’m still alive. It’s enough. I tread onward. The vine’s constant encouragement is a welcome companion. I look at it every so often, my eyes filled with gratitude.

The sun rises. The ash-ridden land fails to change. The vine still trickles a little bit of water into my mouth every so often. Not enough. But enough all the same. Its motions of encouragement are still pervasive, but I had long stopped responding. Even as my feet continue forward, my mind is gone. Instinct is all that carries me forward. Instinct. And hope.

I cannot not say how many days pass in this muddled state. The vine continues to follow me, digging in and out of the ground as it encourages me forward. At some point it breaks off a piece of itself. A stick, hardened enough to grip. I use it to support myself as I cross the dead landscape.

The water it gives me continues to sate the edges of my thirst. Without it I would be dead. Still I continue. It is in this dazed state that I see it. With half-lidded eyes, as I reach the crest of a hill, the castle appears in my hazy vision.

I can’t believe it at first. It seems like a hallucination. But continuing to look at it eventually brings clarity to my eyes. The beauty of it takes me away.

It’s huge. Its high-reaching towers shoot toward the sky and thick walls black as night blot out my vision. Its deep, verdant green flame gives off an eerie air, flickering its beauty across the castle like a controlled wildfire. I look to that familiar window but see no-one this time. In front of the castle lies tricking streams of water and lush vegetation. Life. In a place I’ve only seen death.

And on its side stands a giant tree, its body dried and dead. It twists into itself with deadly spikes jutting across its bark. Deadly, but familiar. The place feels like a fantasy. A dream built off concepts I don’t understand.

I was overcome by the scene in front of me. So it is to no surprise that I didn’t see the skeleton walking towards me. Nor did I register the measured steadiness of its gait.

Its body is covered with crimson armour and a closed helmet that only opens to reveal the bottomless gaze of its empty eye sockets. A single purple plume stands tall on its head, a long and deadly sword sheathed at its waist. If I had noticed any of this I would have panicked immediately. But I did not. All I could see was the barest edge of its body in the corner of my eye, and I immediately reacted.

I reach out to take its twisted emotions, my mind preparing for the pain that will invade me. And then I mentally stumble as it finds nothing it expects, a wall completely blocking me out. Shock stirs me awake, worming into my mind like poison as my expectations are turned on its head. It forces my eyes to travel across to see what manner of creature I face. I see the white of bones greet me in turn. With a heavy smack the pommel of the skeleton’s sword slams into me. And then the darkening sky is all that’s left. I collapse onto the ground and sink into sleep’s deep embrace.