I didn’t know what was true and what was a lie.
I didn’t know who I could trust.
Was there anyone around me who didn’t crave my throne?
Was that letter my salvation, or would it permanently seal my fate?
Remembering that time makes me sick.
Oh my God, I think I’m losing my mind.
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A wall of dark clouds loomed on the horizon of Aldramar. Nevertheless, the city, perhaps already accustomed to enduring fierce storms, carried on as usual. From outside the Drunken Sip Tavern, the vibrant sounds of the city could be heard: the cries of several infants, routine conversations between workers, carts transporting goods… And yet, none of it could compare to the clamor of the guards’ armor, echoing through the streets as they patrolled in formation at all hours.
Since the appearance of the Night Mist, the Royal Guard had been far more active than usual, tirelessly traversing the city’s streets. This sparked significant debate among the citizens: some believed it was all a farce, while others argued the guard was losing control of the city and that some unknown attacker was trying to invade.
The debate was settled during what would later be known as the Last Incursion. Months earlier, under orders from the king, a hundred of the best-equipped guards set out to patrol the streets at night. Aware of the risks, they had trained for months, hoping to survive such a feat and uncover the mysteries of the strange mist.
However, the incursion was an utter failure. What happened to the poor souls who braved the mist remains unknown, but it is certain that none of them survived. The secrets of that phenomenon remained hidden, and the king had no choice but to admit defeat and declare there would be no further incursions. It became clear the guard had lost control of the city and that someone—or something—was trying to take it over.
Miriel had lived in Aldramar during that time, just beginning her training as a researcher. She was 16 years old then, and vividly remembered watching that hundred-strong battalion venture into the mist, never to return. Hearing the unpleasant sound of their armor fading into the distance and into the fog was something she would never forget.
Fortunately, today was much livelier than those dark days of the past. This new and different atmosphere inspired Miriel, who had grown accustomed to the village's peace. They didn’t linger in the tavern for long and headed to the marketplace to buy provisions for several days and observe what had changed in Aldramar.
The marketplace was bustling, giving an excellent impression of the city’s economic state. They passed several food stalls: a modest bakery surprisingly run by a Hulgor; a butcher selling the usual fare; and a fruit vendor offering goods from other realms, notably Drakmara berries. The food appeared fresh and of above-average quality, though the prices were a bit higher than Drynn and Thilsa remembered.
The three hurried to buy supplies as the dark clouds approached rapidly. However, with so many people around, they had to wait their turn, but eventually, they managed to get what they needed. In total, they exchanged thirteen gold coins for various fruits, vegetables, and kadul meat—an animal from Drakmara’s prairies perfect for stewing.
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The storm came swiftly, catching the group of three still in the streets. They ran to seek shelter, crossing the marketplace and turning left, only to be met by a wall of mist advancing toward them. Miriel recognized it immediately.
“Run!” the young woman shouted.
The group turned back toward the market. To their horror, the mist was also engulfing the square, swallowing everything in its path.
“Draw your sword!” Thilsa ordered, though Drynn was already prepared.
There was nothing more they could do. The mist enveloped them, icy as frost, as solitary and silent as death. For a few moments, they remained in this state, as close to the void as they could imagine, with nothing to see or hear.
Suddenly, they found themselves in an unfamiliar place. Surrounding them was a desolate landscape: a barren plain with a few dead trees in the distance. The ground was sandy and reddish, and the sky was filled with storm clouds, similar to those over Aldramar just moments ago, but here they discharged lightning.
“What the hell?” Thilsa asked, visibly nervous. Drynn and Miriel remained silent, captivated by the haunting beauty of the horrible scenery.
The place was unlike anything they had ever seen: total devastation, the embodiment of evil in its purest form. The dead, rotting trees and the extreme desert drought suggested that, fortunately, no life could thrive in that wasteland.
“Do you know where we are?” Drynn asked.
“No idea,” Thilsa replied. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.”
“I was asking the girl,” Drynn clarified. When Miriel didn’t respond, he continued, “In any case, it’s clear we’re not in Mariandel. Drakmara is entirely forest and green prairies, and Altharion is sacred ground, so I doubt it looks like this.”
“You’re right,” Thilsa concluded thoughtfully. Suddenly, she turned to ensure Miriel was all right. “Miriel?”
I’ve seen this before, Miriel thought to herself, oblivious to Thilsa’s question. In the visions that had shown her the world, she had dreamed of this place—or at least one very similar to it. All the visions of this wasteland had ended in tragedy for the poor souls who found themselves there.
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Thilsa briefly shook Miriel, snapping her out of her spiral of negative thoughts.
“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Miriel replied hesitantly. “I was trying to remember something about this place, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything.”
“You haven’t seen it in one of your visions?” Drynn asked, puzzled.
“Not in any of them. If I had, I wouldn’t have forgotten it. Those visions… they’re unforgettable.”
“If your visions didn’t foresee this, there’s nothing we could have done,” Drynn concluded.
After another minute of observation, it was Thilsa who took the initiative, leading the group in search of shelter where they could plan their next steps and try to figure out where they were. The group ventured into the plain toward distant mountains, where conditions seemed more favorable. Thunderbolts struck all around them in a circular pattern.
“This storm doesn’t feel very natural,” Drynn remarked. “I’d almost say someone’s controlling it.”
“Nothing about this desert is normal,” Thilsa replied, more concerned about potential enemies than the storm. “I think the storm is the least of our worries. The first priority is finding shelter.”
“You’re right,” Drynn conceded. “We should pick up the pace, just in case…”
That’s when it happened.
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Drynn let out a piercing scream, a clear sign of excruciating pain unlike anything he had experienced before. Miriel and Thilsa turned to see a horrifying sight. A stinger had emerged from the sandy ground and pierced Drynn’s chest with brutal force.
Thilsa, sword already drawn, rushed to his aid, immediately severing the stinger. Miriel, frozen in terror, watched helplessly as a giant scorpion emerged from the ground next to her companions.
Faced with such a monster, Thilsa quickly attacked its body, but the beast’s exoskeleton was incredibly tough, and her strikes failed to penetrate the enemy. The scorpion, now without its greatest weapon, screamed in pain as it lunged at Thilsa with its two pincers. She leaped to the side, evading the attack. Taking advantage of its momentum, she counterattacked, managing to sever one of the scorpion’s pincers. Thilsa did not relent, continuing her assault on the weakened monster, which could barely move. It didn’t take long for her to bring it down and finish it off by driving her sword into the head of the hideous beast.
Thilsa turned her attention to Drynn, who lay sprawled on the ground with the stinger still embedded in his torso. He had stopped breathing, likely due to the scorpion’s venom. Damn it, we have to get out of here! Thilsa muttered to herself as she ran toward Miriel.
“Run! More are coming!”
Miriel could barely stammer.
“But Drynn… Drynn…”
“Not now, Miriel!” Thilsa grabbed Miriel’s hand, and they both ran as fast as they could.
Behind them, dozens of scorpions emerged from the ground, shaking the earth as they began their pursuit. Fortunately, none of them were fast enough to catch up, at least not immediately.
The situation remained stable for a few minutes until Miriel began showing signs of exhaustion. Thilsa had no choice but to slow down, as her duty was to protect Miriel, even if it meant her own death. The scorpions drew closer little by little, and Thilsa tried to think of a plan for her companion:
“The mountains are too far,” she shouted as best she could while running. “You need to hide in one of the dunes here, without making any noise or moving.”
“And you?”
“Someone’s got to distract them, don’t you think? When you’re safe, head toward the mountains over there, where I’ll be waiting for you.”
Thilsa didn’t give Miriel a chance to respond. She shoved her to the right, separating from her possibly forever. Immediately, Thilsa screamed at the scorpions, desperately trying to draw their attention. Meanwhile, Miriel, who had stumbled from Thilsa’s push, continued running in another direction.
The tactic seemed to work, as five minutes later, Miriel found herself alone. She didn’t have the strength to run anymore, so she could only walk briskly. The sound of the giant scorpions’ footsteps faded away, and the crushing silence returned to that strange wasteland.
When the immediate danger passed, Miriel began to process what had happened: the appearance of the mist, the new world, Drynn’s death, Thilsa’s disappearance… Was Thilsa even alive? By now, she must have been exhausted. Unable to run, the only way to escape would be to defeat all the beasts—a highly improbable feat.
For the first time in a long while, tears appeared on Miriel’s face. Tears of rage. Of helplessness. Of weakness. In the span of an hour, she had lost her two most loyal companions in life, and she was now alone in a place full of monsters that would kill her at the first opportunity.
I deserve this, Miriel thought. I’ve spent my whole life complaining about my blood, about being different. I thought I was unlucky because of my power, because I was powerful. And in the end, it’s me, the ‘powerful’ one, who couldn’t do anything. Miriel’s thoughts were consumed by guilt, negativity, and rage. So much rage.
Miriel kept walking, not even looking where she was going. She didn’t care in the slightest, as she had already lost everything, including hope. In silence, she wandered through the desert for hours, not observing her surroundings. Perhaps she hoped some monster would find her and finally end her torment.
Without realizing it, she came across a cabin by chance. It seemed abandoned but was still functional: it had a roof made of dry branches and a pantry with salted meat that was still edible.
Miriel laughed, having stumbled upon good fortune without even looking for it. Why am I lucky and they aren’t? Why does the supposed genius have everything in her favor while those who truly do the dirty work don’t? she asked herself as she prepared to cook the meat. She lit a fire as she had been taught during her training, using flint. Once she succeeded, she threw a bunch of dry branches into the fire and hung the meat on a branch just above the flames.
Miriel didn’t know why she was doing this; there was nothing driving her to survive when, sooner or later, she was going to die. Must be my blood, keeping me from dying without a fight, she thought.
Minutes passed as Miriel sat still, waiting for the food to cook or for the monsters to find her. She knew perfectly well that the smell of the meat would give her away, but sooner or later, she had to eat. Why suffer from hunger if the outcome will be the same?
Eventually, Miriel’s prediction came true. She heard footsteps all around her, coming from every direction. Finally, she said to herself. She closed her eyes, aware of what would happen next. Tears appeared on her face again. Feelings of regret and sorrow overwhelmed her, and she cried uncontrollably.
The giant scorpions attacked the cabin, which couldn’t withstand them in the slightest. Before losing consciousness, she saw something that truly puzzled her: a human riding a scorpion. He looked ordinary, though elderly. He spoke a few words to her.
“I think you’ve seen enough, Veltharyn. This is what awaits you.”
With those words, a stinger pierced Miriel’s heart, and her suffering came to an end.