I’m not sure for how long I sit there, clutching the legs of the skeleton who was sleeping eternally not ten minutes before all of this, only to be awoken by this particular mess that I am. All of the others are gone, drifted off somewhere into the wastes. The harpy has vanished to points unknown as well, perhaps to mend her hurt wing and bruised throat. A bony hand pats my head, as he bends down and consoles me until I’m done dying inside. Thanks skeleton, you’re alright.

I sniffle, rubbing the gunk out of my eyes, as I feel the bony fingers run through my hair. Looking up to him, he nods to me and offers me a hand, which I take and rise back up to my rather wobbly feeling legs. I don’t feel better. But I feel better. Does that make sense? I think it does.

  My eyes scan the wastes around myself. There is nothing but barren desolation in every direction. Sand to the north, sand to the south. Sand, sand everywhere and not a drop to drink. I spit out a mouthful of sand that I still had inside of me. We’re not going to get into the sand that I have in me in other places, guy. The desert might be wise beyond its years, but it also doesn’t have much of a concept of appropriate work-place behavior or personal space for that matter. A constant theme of my life.

Something crunches. I turn my head to see the skeleton walking away, leaving me standing there alone again, as I should be.

As I should be.

I lower my gaze to take a deep breath. There is a creaking noise and I look back up to the skeleton, who is standing there in the near-distance. Waiting for me. Waiting for me?

  Huh? He waves to me, beckoning for me to follow, before turning to walk further onward. You want me to follow you? Are you sure? I take a step after him. I’m kind of weird, you know? I cry a lot apparently and I’m a jerk and I’m selfish and for some reason, I always carry a weird, vaguely ambiguous tension in everything I do. He doesn’t seem to care and I run after him. Hallow.

But I stop.

  The desert winds blow around myself, shifting the fray of my skirt and hair as it billows them around playfully. Turning my gaze back once to the dunes behind myself, I lift my hand and release the magical energy of the valkyrie. A snaking tendril slithers across the desert sands like a viper, crawling down and up the dune with ease, as it reaches the dried out, decapitated rat and pieces it back together. It squeaks in terror as it comes to life, perhaps still thinking that I’m holding it and flops around in the dirt before scampering off as fast as it can, perhaps to return to its brethren, who have all vanished into the corners of the wastes where I can no longer see them.

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But I feel them, watching me. I’m going to show them.

I run after the skeleton, catching up to him. I’m going to show them, to show her, the rat-queen, that they should be watching me. But not for the reasons that they have now. I’m going to make them want to watch me out of bewilderment. Out of amazement. Yeah. Yeah! Watch me, guy, I’m going to show you too.

  And so my skeleton buddy and I walk together through the wastes, side by side. I don’t know if we have a particular goal in mind or anything really, or if we’re just walking. But that’s okay. I look to the dead-man strolling forward, undeterred by all of it. Sometimes it’s just nice to walk while you talk, you know?

The winds blow, shifting clouds of sand all around us like a vague, midnight fog that glows with a ruby candor.

I don’t know if she’s gone or not, guy.

I need to find out how to get… how to get back there. To that cold place. To where Nichodemus and it are if they haven’t broken out again somehow. Maybe she’s there too. Maybe she’s safe. Waiting for me. No. Waiting for the lance-hero.

Why was it up here? Why was Nichodemus here?

There was a crack. Something was breaking, falling apart. Is it connected to the mold that is spreading deeper down below? Maybe, I am unsure. But if there was one crack, then surely there will be another. If it can come through to me, then I can go through to it, right? Like I did before.

So that’s what I’m going to do.

The sand crunches beneath our boots as we march together through the dead-lands. Hallow, hallow are our steps that are undeterred by the scorching heat. Blessed are our eyes that face forward undeterred. Holy is the will that guides me through these wastes.

I’m going to keep pressing forward and I’m going to show them all who I want to be. No. Who I am. And I’m going to find a way to get to her and I’m going to kill that thing, whatever it is. A hero should slay a dragon, traditionally. But… I’ll take a horrible other-worldly slug monstrosity as well, because there are people who I need to keep safe. Because that’s what the hero would do, right?

  We stop and I look ahead together with, currently, my only friend in this world and my body shakes again as we see. Hallow. As we see the sacred truth with these eyes so blessed. With these eyes that quiver. Twenty-three skeletons stand in a circle just ahead, digging out a giant hole in the middle of the wastes. Pushing and building mounds of sand to the side as they dig with no tools, with nothing else but their rattly bodies. Sand courses through the bony, fleshless holes of their fingers as they work.

Also guy, confidentiality speaking, bony fleshless holes, you kn…-

Ah, you know what? No. Nevermind. I don’t want to ruin the moment. But I guess I did, huh? Sorry. Anyways, but that doesn’t stop them. They keep digging, having created a pit of substantial depth. Seeing me, they stop to wave.

Slowly, somewhat unsure, I wave back to the twenty-three hardworking friends who I happen to have in this life. Hallow.

They do it for me, you know?