The kiss of hot steel seared into the woman's neck. Before thinking twice, she opened her eyes and used her power to knock away the heated weapon.

It was a simple flick of eyebrows that brought nothing abnormal to the surface in any other moment when used. For some reason, just that one magic trick of hers winded her.

Her breath caught in her chest, and her heart began to pound. It felt wrong to use magic for some reason when it should have been as easy as breathing.

She looked around her and noted the person who had tried to kill her. It was nearly impossible to see who exactly attempted it. They were covered in brown broken rags barely tapered together.

There was only one thing the woman could make a note of, and it was the lone ember eye burning into her.

While most would have felt outrage or fear at a possible murderer, the woman felt cold indifference. A nick of her neck wouldn't end her suffering. She wouldn't be stuck roaming this cursed land if it could.

The two stared at each other for one long, pregnant pause.

A heartbeat later, a man was unearthed from the heap of rags. The man and woman studied each other with the same shrewd gaze as they took each other in. The man had one red eye and one black. He kept half of his face cryptic by keeping one rag over his mouth. His striking eyes were a startling contrast to his tanned brown skin. Perhaps even more incredible was that he could hide his tall, thick frame in shoddy attire. The woman felt like he'd grown two feet since he took off the rags.

He disregarded her and went after the shovel she knocked aside. She watched him go, curious if he would try to kill her again.

Sadly, he didn't.

He returned with his shovel and made the international gesture for her to go.

"I have nowhere left to go." She said simply as she sat up and took a look at the hellish surroundings. In fact, the young woman had no idea where she was. She'd floated around half-conscious for too many miles and years.

The man opened his mouth and spoke. His voice was intensely gruff, as if he barely used it, but it was even more important to note that she couldn't understand it. Not a single word made any sense to the woman.

She blinked lazily and sighed. Maybe she'd been asleep for too long?

Both tried to communicate for the next few minutes; the woman even flowed through all the languages she could speak.

Neither of them could understand each other. The man finally gave up speaking to her and instead kept gesturing for her to go.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

She shook her head and then shrugged. There was something wrong with her body. She needed a moment to catch her breath before she could leave.

As if fed up with her, the man lifted the shovel and aimed it at her throat. He placed the steel edge directly on the cut he had tried to conduct before. The thin trail of blood from the previous wound had already congealed itself into a thin ribbon towards her chest.

She hadn't bothered to stop the blood, and instead of cowering in fear at the fresh danger, she smirked and lifted her chin for his aim.

"Do it." She said. "If you can end my suffering, this will be worth it."

The man's expression hardened, and for one heartbeat, she thought he was going to swing and chop off her head. But the man sighed and lowered the shovel unexpectedly.

His eyes seemed to carry emotion, but that mattered little to the woman. She finally had the strength to stand on her legs. That meant it was time to go.

"This was a nice break, but I must depart." The woman said as she stood up and dusted off the endless grains of sand from her person. If the man could understand her, he might have cracked a smile, she thought, imagining what that could look like.

She gave a little wave and jumped up into the air. At least, that was what she expected to happen. Instead of going up and flying away, she barely made it two feet into the air. The same strange feeling came over, and she gasped as the boundless magic within her shriveled up. She dropped like a hot stone and landed on the scorching sand.

A choked, bitter laugh rocked her slim frame at the realization that something was wrong with her magic. What she was going through wasn't a simple hiccup; her magic might be gone.

The one thing she had desired for hundreds of years would become her undoing. If her magic was gone, her immortality was also at risk. This was her chance to die.

Red watched the strange woman flail about in the sand. The fall from above must have damaged her brain. He recalled a dog he used to keep as a boy before his brothers got their hands on it. They dropped the dog from the roof to teach him a lesson about heights. The dog's mind was never the same after that day.

She was a magical being in a land cursed to be magicless. There was no telling where she came from. Habrin conquered dozens of nations, and all those lands fell victim due to their curse.

If she came from one of the countries that escaped the tyranny of the Habrin Empire, then she might still hold magic.

Red glanced down at his slave mark, and a grim smile grew. She'd need to leave the Ela Desert if she wanted her magic back, and he was just the man to help her escape.

Red took his shovel and started drawing in the sand. The woman's mad laughter subsided as she watched him with curious blue eyes.

With simple strokes, he quickly drew the map of the Ela Desert. He wrote the old name for this land and noted how her eyes lit up in horror and understanding.

Ela Desert wasn't always a blistering land of sand. Once upon a time, it was the Elan Nation. It was among the first of the great three nations before the Habrin Empire razed it.

"Elan?" She said in her untraceable accent. Her face was one of horror and fear as she glanced around. She said a few more words before shaking her head.

Red used his fingers to show how long it had been since the Elan Nation expired.

Her mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut. She crouched down and used her abnormally pale fingers to trace the symbols for Elan in the sand. Red could tell she doubted him, and he couldn't blame her.

Red ruthlessly erased the last symbol of the name Elan from the sand. That symbol represented the Elan people's dedication to their God. But like the Elan people, their God was dead.

What was left was the Ela Desert, a godless broken crypt of bodies.