[https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vRJAW2owWCwXUgDB0QcH9hvsGRLEGge_xmBx6l0bXKn7pCxP4VzWCo5yK1sfwD_7pQLlC_ViA-pLBmX/pub]

The Sandscar stretched out and away from the bottom of the dune at which Roiden stood, the ruined city a dead relic of a long forgotten glorious past. The once awe-inspiring sandspires that had reached so ambitiously for the heavens lay fallen and broken upon the ground, the tiny pincer-shaped imprints on the crumbled and broken sides of the pillars the last vestiges of their creator’s race.

Roiden took another sip out of his canteen before screwing the lid on as tightly as possible and looking out over the ruins with a sigh. He wiped his forehead, flicking away sweat, wishing for the millionth time he had some way of avoiding the searing sun rays beaming down from above. He didn’t. No mount for him, no shading parasol, no personal carriage, no extra weight or anything that could slow him down—no, he was a Runner.

Roiden stowed his canteen in his carefully weighted fifteen stone rucksack with the rest of his meager possessions. His eyes flickered over a locket with an insignia on it, shifting about deep within the bag, before closing the flap and sealing it tightly. He closed his eyes and sighed. Another day. A different journey.

Heaving the bag up onto his back, Roiden glanced up at the sky. The sun hadn’t even made it halfway to its zenith. Still plenty of time left in the day. Roiden glanced out at the ruins, a frown on his face. Surely, he would be out of the ruins by sunset. He would have to be. Anyone who knew anything knew that you did not want to be in or near Rrakthani ruins come sundown. Roiden knew this lesson from firsthand experience.

And just like that, he was off. Free. Running. Over the last few dunes at the edge of the ruins, through a hole in the crumbled sandstone wall, and into the backstreets of the ancient ruins. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose—Roiden’s feet pounded the slowly warming sand, sending fine grains spraying in every direction with each forceful step. Buildings flashed by in his periphery as he jogged by them, the beautiful sandstone architecture utterly ignored by the man. There were deadly things that lurked here. Roiden wasn’t about to wait around and let them find him.

Minutes phased into hours as the sun slowly slid it’s way up in the sky. Roiden’s lungs burned from heaving endless breath after breath of heated, dry desert air. His feet ached after pounding against the now scalding sand for hours on end. Yet he didn’t stop running, stop moving. To do so would mean death. He’d seen what happened to those who stopped. He knew. And he didn’t stop.

Finally, at midday, Roiden reached the central fountain. He skidded into the central plaza, sand spraying up from beneath his feet, taking in the majestic sight for the umpteenth time. The single space of respite within the entirety of the Sandscar, the last standing monument of the Rrakthani stood tall, silent, and proud, even with water having long since stopped pouring forth from the great well beneath the city. One may expect from the fact that the fountain had stopped running that it was dead. Far from it.

Deep beneath the surface of the fountain plaza, a great leyline nature, water, and death essence flowed. The fountain tapped into that massive well of energy, pumping an unimaginable amount of mana up and out of the ground. The vast majority, however, simply diffused into the air after being removed. The grand essence relays and rune circles of the once majestic city no longer functioned, and the mana that once had a great purpose now fuelled the mutation of anything living within the area.

Roiden smiled sadly at the glowing runes on the etched into the various columns of the intricate piece of architecture. He didn’t know what they meant or what they did, but they were certainly gorgeous. They were a reminder of better times, of a time of peace, of a time two decades passed when he’d been young and adventurous and never had to watch his own back. Those times were long gone. All he had left was himself and the loneliness of the sands.

Roiden trudged over to the fountain before plopping down on the edge of the basin and setting his pack against the basin wall next to him. From out of his pack Roiden took out his trusty canteen and a wrapped set of biscuit shaped objects. Slowly unfurling the cloth surrounding them so as to not drop anything, Roiden revealed a set of gray hunks with white mottling that looked more like some sort of rotting sea cucumber as opposed to actual food. Roiden shrugged and picked one out of the bundle before lifting it out and taking a bite with a grimace. The sustenance loaves may indeed be as unappetizing as they looked, but the biomage-created substance could feed a man for a day. After another couple bites, Roiden grimaced and put the disgusting loaf back into its wrap. He could always finish it later.

Roiden stuffed the cloth back into his sack before letting himself fall back into the basin of the fountain. After staring up at the sun for a couple seconds Roiden closed his eyes, letting his eyes rest from the intense brightness for a couple seconds. After a few more seconds, Roiden groaned, flopped over awkwardly, and pushed himself out of the fountain. Looking back up at the sun, Roiden triple checked that it was still at its zenith. It was. With a gusty sigh, Roiden took a last sip from his canteen before shoving that into his pack and cinching it shut.

As much as Roiden would’ve liked to take the day to rest at the fountain, he knew he needed to get out of the city. Come sundown, not even the fountain would be safe. He still had another half of his journey left to make.

As Roiden walked away from the fountain and swung his pack around and up onto his back, something flew free to impact with a shattering noise against the lip of the fountain. Roiden spun nearly instantly, his eyes wide in surprise and alertness, searching for an enemy.

There was nothing but the fountain, the heat shimmering in the air, the sand shifting on the ground, and the shattered remnants of a small mirror strewn across the ground next to the lip of the fountain. With a cry, Roiden rushed over to the fountain, collapsing down on both knees as he frantically searched for the pieces of the broken mirror. The razor-sharp shards cut into his hands as he picked grabbed them one by one before placing them in his left hand. Soon enough, he’d gathered all he could find.

With a slump in his shoulders, Roiden lowered his pack to the ground, taking out some bandages. Half of them he used to wrap the shattered, now bloodied mirror. The other half he used to wrap his cut and bleeding hands. As he stowed the broken shards in an isolated, empty section of his pack, a single tear rolled its way down his face. He sat there for a couple minutes, staring down at his hands as the blood soaked into his bandages.

Roiden stood up slowly, with the stoop of a man bearing the weight of his world. More gently this time, Roiden hoisted the pack up onto his shoulders before turning and setting his sights on the exit to the fountain plaza. A strange sort of fire burned in his eyes. His fists, resting down at his sides, clenched and unclenched. He’d have his revenge, for all the things that had been broken. Her mirror. His arm. His family’s status. His dreams. His happiness. His heart. He’d make them pay.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Roiden ran off into the city, out of the plaza on the opposite side that he’d entered it as the sun started slowly began its descent in the sky.

~~~~Three Hours Later~~~~

The Sandscar. The city’s original name had been long since lost to the sands of time. Now, the city took its name from the last remaining evidence of the calamity which had rent the city in two and destroyed nearly half of each the North and East quadrants of the city. The Vein.

The massive, artificially created ravine was both deep and long, reaching hundreds of feet in depth at its deepest points and stretching for miles across the city, spanning the entire width of the sheer valley in which the Sandscar nestled. The glass walls of the ravine, still containing residues of mana from the powerful spellform that had rent the city in two, glowed with shifting translucent colors of all the hues of the rainbow. It was stunningly gorgeous. It was also beyond deadly.

Roiden gulped as he cautiously leaned out over the edge of the ravine, peering down into the shimmering abyss below. As always, he took his customary minute there for a break, setting down his pack and taking a drink out of his canteen before grabbing another bite to eat. Roiden absently stared down into the ravine as he absently chewed, taking in the grand sight for the umpteenth time.

Roiden had just about finished with his break when his eyes laid upon an uncharacteristically dark and brown blotch in the ravine some hundred feet deep and two hundred down the edge from where he was sitting. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus in on the object. It seemed to be some sort of article of clothing. Maybe someone had dropped their pack into the Vein? His eyes just weren’t good enough. He’d have to get closer to take a better look.

Roiden walked along the edge of the crevasse before finally reaching the spot just above where the indistinct form was. Taking a closer look at the brown blotch on the shimmering ground below him, Roiden could definitely verify that someone had at least left their travel sack and cloak at the bottom of the Vein, a deadly mistake for any traversing the Sandscar. There might even be someone underneath all that cloth.

Roiden stared down at the cloak, a frown stretched across his face. He’d only ever ventured into the Vein once before. He’d lost everything down there. But now, as he stared down into the pit that had spawned so many nightmares for him, he knew that if he could just steal one thing back, that might make it just that tiny bit more bearable.

Roiden set his pack down and dug through it, searching for a set of tools he hadn’t touched in ages. He finally found them nestled together at the very bottom of the pack. His four-hundred-foot length of silkwire, terraspikes, and last two fuseballs. Slamming the two terraspikes in an interlocking pattern deep into the sand, Roiden twisted the tops of the two devices, fusing them to the ground. He then tied one end of the silkwire around him in a harness, before dropping the rest of the spool over the side of the cliff. Taking up the rope, Roiden began rappelling down into the Vein.

Roiden went carefully, his eyes routinely scanning the walls around him and ground beneath him for any threats, expecting at any second for something to go wrong. Nothing. After a harrowing, nerve-wracking descent, Roiden finally reached the ground, glancing around the area and into the caves that wormed their way into the lower portions of the walls of the vein.

That was when he froze. Roiden paid homage to no god, but right now he was praying to each and every one he’d ever heard of. There, in the mouth of the tunnel, stood an Illikid Reaver, a massive, twelve foot long, fourteen legged ball of chitin and death.

Hardly moving at all, Roiden stood stock still, hoping to all the gods the beast was asleep. After nearly a minute of crouching there, unmoving, Roiden decided it was asleep enough for him. He slowly crept across the Vein to stand next to the bundle of clothes and travel sack.

Roiden flipped back the hood of the cloak, to find a man with cropped brown hair and a sharp, angular face, almost certainly from the Mancian Provinces. Roiden shook him once gently, trying to get him to wake, then even harder a second time, frowning when that still failed.

The distinctive sound of chitin clacking against stone caused Roiden’s head to shoot up as he froze. The Reaver was moving. Slowly, ever so slowly, the massive insectoid pushed itself up onto its legs before spinning about and retreating into the darkness of the tunnel. Roiden let out the breath that he’d been holding. The Reaver had just been moving to get out of the sun.

Bending down and checking the man’s pulse to make sure he was even still alive, Roiden confirmed that his heart was indeed still beating. With clammy hands and the occasional glance back towards the tunnel where the Reaver had disappeared, Roiden first tied a harness around the man’s waist before securing the rope to himself.

The climb back to the top of the Vein was brutal and grueling. Even with the help of the rope, Roiden barely managed to make it to the top before his arms gave out. He pulled himself up onto the edge of the Vein, quickly untying the unconscious man before collapsing into the sand himself. He stared up at the sun, just about to enter the last quadrant of its descent. His fist clenched. He’d wasted too much time getting the man out of the Vein.

Springing to his feet in a spray of scorching sand, Roiden ran over to the man before grabbing his shoulders.

“Hey. Hey! HEY!” Roiden shouted in the man’s face. “Wake up, by the Searing Sea, we have to leave now!” With a frustrated look of annoyance on his face, Roiden slapped the man’s face, leaving a welt. Still nothing. “Goddamnit,” Roiden shouted, slamming the man against the sand, “by Talhonisses Unborn Child, wake up!” Not so much as an eyelid even flickered.

Roiden stood up before pacing agitatedly back and forth. He put his face in his hands for a brief second. Somedays, Roiden did some really stupid stuff.

It took Roiden five minutes to lash together an impromptu sled made of rope and cloth. He quickly rifled through the man’s pack, removing any valuables, food, and water before placing into his own pack and chucking the rest back into the Vein. With a final heave, Roiden threw the man onto the pallet and the sent off through the Sandscar.

~~~~Four Hours Later~~~~

Roiden’s eyes flickered nervously back and forth between the buildings, every shadow a potential enemy he had to watch out for. A Sandlurker screamed somewhere far off in the distance and Roiden jumped before an uneasy smile slowly crept its way onto his face.

Soon. Soon he’d be safe. He was so close to getting out of the city. Just another fifteen minutes and he’d make it.

He huffed and puffed as he dragged the makeshift sled through the sand. The loud noise of his breath heaving in and out almost caused him to miss the sound of sliding sand behind him.

Roiden casually glanced behind, not expecting anything serious. His eye caught the creeping form of the Reaver behind him. The tethers to the makeshift sled slipped from his hands as he turned to face the creature, a clammy hand reaching into his robes to clutch a fuseball.

The Reaver froze for a half second but seemed to pick up on his nervousness and stepped forward with a shriek. Roiden glanced down once at the man laying on the sand in front of him before he turned and ran. 

It was nearly another hundred miles across the Talomakaran Desert before he reached Windhold. He carried that burden with him till the end.