The path was not clear, it knew where the destination would be, but how it was supposed to go there it did not know.

For days its journey went on, its path going straight to the Tower, but the distance did not once decrease, no, the Tower only seemed to go further and further away. Its legs did not grow tired, for the Tower was the only thing in its mind. Minutes, hours and days went on, without the slightest chance other than the bigger growing distance. At last, the Tower was nothing more but one small dot on the end of the horizon, which was when the lone figure realized that walking towards the Tower was not the real path to reach it.

The figure halted its steps to finally take a real look at its surroundings, feeling curiosity for the first time after the mindless endeavor. The sky looked hollow as if something was missing, but it could not put a finger on what it was. The red sun that remained on top of the Tower had also moved away, taking whatever little light was on the lands with it. The realm got colder.

Now there only reigned dark, with the occasional bit of burning ash that was floating towards the ground lighting up this place. There were massive mountains covered in ash, taking away whatever additional path there may have been. Seeing that the only other way led away from the Tower, going westwards, it saw no other choice but to follow it.

There may have been another choice, another way out, which would contain the trespassing of the mountain range, so this was obviously something the figure did not consider. It moved once again, taking one step after another, walking into the unknown, with nothing but one wish.

It did not manage to go far until it felt that something was wrong. It knew that even though the realm was empty, it should not be void of beings like it. It wondered where they may be. Did they walk aimlessly like he did for the time it had been there, or did they meet, trying to work together so that their chances of succeeding would be higher?

Just as he went on wondering, the ground moved. The ashes, they moved.

Two hands slowly went up, fighting against the ashes that imprisoned them.

A faint feeling of dread came up, the figure knew that this, whatever it may be, was going to be its first trial, the first of many more to come. It readied itself, flexing its charred muscles that made crackling sounds whenever the figure made the slightest bit of movement. It had not known that its body was in such dire state, the longing for its goal preventing it from noticing a thing of such great importance.

The arms that emerged from the ground soon went on to be a full body, a being so grotesque that even the lone figure could not help but wonder as to what circumstance could have caused it.

The being in front of him was nothing more than an empty shell, a body devoid of what once may have been a glorious former self. It was equipped with the hilt of a broken sword, rendering the intended usage of the weapon useless, only allowing the bearer of it to stab deep wounds to his foes.

Stolen story; please report.

The lone figure felt restless, it did not possess any kind of weapon to harm the hollow corpse. The only thing that was special about it was the red mark on its palm, the circle that must touch the red sun.

It did not have any additional time to prepare and think of any way to fight it, for it heard the growl that came from the hollow corpse. It had lifted its arm that held the sword hilt and was about to strike the figure.

The lone figure saw the strike incoming but hat no real way to defend itself, its charred flesh was already a wound on itself. The only thing remaining was dodging, and so it did.

The strike came from left, directly aiming for the figures head, forcing the figure to duck and evade the attack. It felt that without retaliating it would lose its chance to climb the Tower, which made it anxious. It did not want to lose the opportunity, it did not want to go back to the ever sleeping dead.

And so it struck the hollow corpse, a few strikes with its left fist and another few with its right fist.

The hollow corpse let out another guttural sound, but this time because it was in pain. The corpse lost its footing and the sword hilt slipped from its grip.

The lone figure felt its head go light, and it tried its damndest to grasp the opportunity that presented itself. It ran to the sword hilt and grabbed it with its left hand, feeling that this weapon should be held with it. Whatever may happen, the palm with the red circle should not be the one holding a weapon.

The hollow corpse watched the lone figure, it did not stand up, the empty eye sockets were now filled with a dim, gray light.

"You will fall just like the others," it said slowly as if just talking alone took a great toll on its wasted vocal chords, "Aeons of suffering await you, and you will live in continuous misery..", a low laugh escaped its throat, "until the moment where you end up in madness, awaiting the moment the gods call you back to the dead."

The laughter increased in volume and the lone figure stood there, observing its foe. The burning sensation of its palm grew bigger and bigger until it saw that it glowed strongly, just like charcoal in an evening fire. It knew what it needed to do. It needed to free this poor creature from its suffering.

Not longer minding the crazy laughter, it moved forward, letting the hilt fall to the ashes.

"You can't kill me, extinguished one, for you are just like me. A worm inside of this mess what we call the Lost Kingdom!", the corpse taunted the figure, not even knowing the fate that was awaiting it.

The lone figure moved on putting its right palm with the glowing, red circle on top of the corpse's face.

What was once a crazed laughter turned into a loud cry that intensified as time went on. The spark that caused it to have a consciousness was being robbed from it. The corpse shook and tried to weakly flail with its arms, but to no avail.

The struggle ended with the corpse finally turning into ash as it was embraced by the lands, taking refuge in that which is feared by the lost ones.

The glowing stopped, the circle was satisfied. It was dim once again, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

The lone figure felt power surging through its bones, the black, burnt skin lightening its color by a bit.

And then it finally remembered.

It remembered the warmth of an embrace and a soothing voice talking into his left ear: "Welcome to the family, little Fath."