Darkness consumed me for only the briefest of moments. It was similar to the void of death but not quite as sudden nor quite as long. For the short time in which I was in between worlds, I felt a sense of weightlessness as I fell, slow as a feather, into an abyss as vast and infinite as the universe itself. Then, with a gasp, I drew my first breath and opened my eyes.

I found myself, my bare skin exposed to the air, standing amidst a vast sandy desert that seemed to stretch on forever, the sands going up and down like ocean waves occasionally broken by jagged rock formations and patches of stubborn vegetation. A soft wind blew across the sands, ever so slightly changing the landscape; it carried the scent of dust and the faint, bitter tang of dried grasses and flowers. All the while, the bright midday sun hung above me like a tyrant, threatening to boil me alive.

It was a harsh environment, the harshest I'd ever been in, and yet as I took the sensation of being alive once more, I found that I didn't care. I cherished every breath that I took, holding every single one in my lungs for just a few seconds longer before finally letting go. I stretched my arms and legs, savoring every little detail in the way my toned muscles moved. I touched my chest and felt the drumming of my own heart, the way it pumped blood beneath my skin. I fully took in every little feeling and sensation. I was alive, and that was enough.

Only after I had savored all the little sensations did I actually sit down to think. The hot sand beneath me wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than standing at least.

I died; I knew and accepted that fact, but everything that came afterwards felt so… surreal. I had wandered limbo; talked with a god of death, I became their champion, and now here I was. Reborn, or transported? I wasn't sure which was the correct word to describe it, but that was irrelevant. What mattered was that I now was someplace else, which begged the question; was this even Earth anymore? And beyond that, what was I supposed to do now? I took on a monumental task and I didn't have the slightest idea of where or how to begin, not to mention that I was stranded in the middle of a desert with no clothes, no food, no water and no idea of what to do.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No, just focus on survival for now. Everything else can wait,” I said to myself as I stood up and began to walk in a random direction. I wasn't going to give up on the quest I was given no matter how daunting it seemed, but right now, I had to make sure this desert wasn't the death of me; I couldn't complete my task if I was dead.

As I wandered, I quickly found out just how harsh the desert truly was. The sand burned me with every step I took, and without shoes, the rougher patches of sand cut and bit into the soles of my feet. The sun was merciless and unyielding upon my unprotected tan skin. I could feel the burns and blisters forming with every step I took. Thirst clawed at my throat as I felt my body collapse from the sheer exhaustion. It demanded to rest and be fed, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't stop, wouldn't stop no matter how much my legs hurt; I needed to find something, anything, or the desert would consume me before nightfall.

And so, I kept walking.

As the hours went on, the sun began to lower, but somehow the desert remained just as hot, if not even hotter. I felt lightheaded and dizzy, but I kept pushing myself, focusing on the rhythm of my steps to keep me awake. One, two, one and two, over and over again. I kept my eyes forward at all times, staring out into the distance, unfocused. I blinked once, looked left, blinked twice, and turned right – nothing. I returned my sight forward and blinked again. One moment, there was nothing but sand ahead of me, the next, a lush oasis filled my view a small distance away. The relief that washed over me was unlike any other. I smiled and felt small tears of joy forming at the corners of my eyes. I took a step forward, then another, and then I was running, practically stumbling as a small laugh escaped me despite the pain; thoughts of cool water touching my lips filled my head.

In my rush to get there, my feet failed me and I tripped, falling forward into the sand. I remained there for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, then forced myself up, but when I raised my head, there was no oasis anymore. There was nothing at all but a well, partly swallowed by the desert.

“No, no no!” I stumbled towards the well and dared to look down it, only to find it full of sand. My eyes stung as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Dammit!” I hit the stone as my tears of joy turned sour. I fought to hold them back; I could not afford to waste the precious water on them.

I rubbed my eyes with a sigh and leaned against the dry well in defeat. At the very least, the small roof above the structure gave a small amount of shade.

I was about to sit down to recover, but I noticed that there was something poking out from the other side of the well. I narrowed my eyes at it as I tried to decipher what it was but I couldn't even tell what shape it was. I slowly crept around the well and right when I reached the middle, I saw a skeletal hand clinging to a waterskin. I lowered my guard a bit and walked over to see the corpse of a man sitting on the sands, leaning against the well. He – I could tell because of the structure of the skull – wore the remains of what once would have been a pristine white linen robe, now turned yellow with age. He had a small knife on a worn-down leather belt and was wearing a small backpack made of animal hide with what I assumed to be a bedroll secured to the bottom of it.

I sighed and knelt down next to the remains of the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, me too,” I said, my voice merely a whisper. This man, whomever he was, had wandered here thinking he'd found salvation, only for it to become his tomb. The desert had taken him; I wasn't going to let it take me. Today the heartless sands won, but tomorrow would be a different story, I'd make sure of it.

“I'm sorry,” I said as I carefully began to strip the man's skeletal remains from his belongings.

The backpack yielded very little: an old hempen rope, a handful of candles and a little box with a blackened cloth, a steel rod, a black stone of sorts and some bits of wood shavings. At first, I was confused as to what it was, until I rasped the stone against the steel, creating a small shower of sparks. I'd heard it referenced in games, shows and other media but I'd never seen one before. It was a tinderbox. Beyond that little curiosity, the rope was frayed, and the backpack's leather was cracked and worn. Not ideal, but it would do for now. Any tool I could find in this place was precious.

I could have simply worn the robe, but it was far too damaged to be useful, so I took the knife from his belt and tore into it. The fabric was old and coarse against my fingertips, but it would serve its purpose. I cut a few strips to wrap my feet and bind my breasts, feeling the rough cloth chafe on my bare skin. It was better than the constant feeling of the irritating sand, but not by much.

Finally, I separated the remaining cloth by cutting it into two large pieces. One piece I tied around my hips like a skirt. It barely reached below my knees and left my left leg partly exposed, but it would at least provide some amount of modesty and protection. The other piece I folded into a triangle and placed on my head, securing it with the rope. The makeshift headdress would shield my face from the relentless sun and keep my chocolate hair out of my eyes.

By the time I finished looting, the sun was going down. I knew that deserts turned into freezing cold landscapes once the sun set, so I unfurled the old bedroll and crawled inside it to try and get some sleep while there was still some warmth in the air. The outer material of the bedroll seemed to be a heavy cloth of sorts, while the inside was fluffy with sheep's wool. Hopefully it'd be enough to keep me from freezing to death. It was after I'd gotten comfortable in the bedroll, that I noticed I had laid down right next to the man's now completely bare bones. “I hope you don't mind, but I needed this. Keep watch?” I jokingly asked him.

The skeleton didn't answer.

I sighed and shook my head. I knew that talking to the old bones was pointless, but even the simple act of hearing myself speak helped to calm my nerves.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and began counting to try to fall asleep. Overall, I wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was all I had. I swore to myself that tomorrow would be better, even if it was mostly just to keep my spirits up. Right before sleep took me, I swear I heard a creaking next to my ear.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt a freezing cold run across my body, even through the cover of the bedroll. I opened my eyes and looked around; I saw the sky a distance away turning to red, orange and purple. I thanked God – my god? – that I woke up just as the dawn was breaking.

I waited for a bit longer – mostly for the temperature to rise a bit – before getting up from my bedroll and getting ready for the day. I wore the leather belt around my chest like a bandolier, as it was too large for me to wear like normal, and slung the old backpack over my shoulder.

I stretched my arms and legs and was about to leave when I noticed something. I stared at the anomaly with a frown and a tilted head. “That's not where I left you,” I said to the skeleton, which was now sitting on the well, leaning on one of the posts that held up the tiny roof on it.

I walked over to the corpse and poked it, but it remained as lifeless as it did the night before. I looked around in confusion, looking for any signs of who might have moved it. I was prepared to find boot or hoof marks or hell, even just a small disturbance in the sand. Instead, I found skeletal footprints going around the well in circles before finally ending where the corpse now sat.

A sudden thought crossed my mind as I took in what I was seeing, but it surely wasn't possible.

I did ask the skeleton to keep watch, but that was just a small joke for myself, and a terrible one at that. The more I thought about it, though, the more I wondered. “Did you actually…?” I tried to dismiss the idea. It was ridiculous, after all. A skeleton wouldn't just keep watch just because I asked it to, and it wasn't like it could in the first place; It was dead! But then again, the evidence around me spoke for itself.

“If this doesn't work, I'm going to look really dumb…” I grumbled as I took a step away from the skeleton. “Stand up,” I commanded, my voice slightly shaky with anticipation. For a few seconds, nothing happened. I brought up a hand to massage my temples. Of course it wasn't going to work, you idiot! I damned myself for my stupidity. It hadn't even been a day and I was already losing my goddamn mind!

I took a deep breath and released my frustrations with a sigh. I turned around, and just as I was about to keep moving, the old bones creaked.

“What…?” I whiplashed around to look at the skeleton. My jaw metaphorically hit the floor as I stared dumbfounded at what I had just done. The skeleton, on the other hand, merely stood there in near perfect stillness, its hollow eye sockets staring at me expectantly. I took a step back, trying to comprehend what this meant. Could I control it? And if that was the case, then what else could it do?

“I mean… stand next to me?” The way I said it, it was more of a question than a command, but the skeleton did as told regardless, walking up to me and standing side by side with me. Setting aside my concerns about breaking the laws of nature so casually, this was big. Having a companion to accompany me in this desolate place could help me stay sane if I wandered for too long. It wouldn't laugh at my jokes, or answer any of my questions, but it would be enough.

I thought of what I could order it to do to help me survive. Some of the things I was thinking of probably wouldn't work, but I had to try regardless. I cleared my throat and faced the skeleton. “Where's the nearest town?”

For a moment, it seemed to just stay there, and then, it raised a hand and pointed a finger in a direction. I looked to where it was pointing and saw nothing but the rolling sands. That, however, was to be expected. If finding civilization were as easy as looking north I'd have found something by now. I smiled and began to walk towards the place my new companion pointed to, and as I stepped away from the well, I gave the skeleton another order. “Follow me.”

What came next was walking. Hours upon hours of walking across the endless desert. It wasn't so bad during the morning, but once the sun came out, the land quickly turned into the boiling hell it had been the day before. Thankfully, I wasn't naked anymore, and the rags I fashioned proved their usefulness quickly enough.

Walking across the hot and rough sands was still uncomfortable but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the day before thanks to the cloth around my feet. The skirt kept sand from blowing directly on my crotch like it had yesterday, and the binding on my breasts, though rough, soaked up sweat which helped to keep me just a tad bit cooler. The most useful by far, however, was the headdress. It covered my head, neck and even a small part of my shoulders and upper back. That it kept my hair away from my eyes was a nice bonus. Of course, the heat remained as unbearable as before, but the sun didn't burn as much, if that made sense.

The whole journey I still fought the thirst, hunger and the occasional mirage. The first two I could do nothing about, but the mirages were a little more manageable with every one that I saw. Every time I spotted something suspicious in the far distance I made sure to close my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. It was soul crushing to realize that the passing caravans and distant oases were just illusions, but at the very least I didn't fall for them anymore.

It was around midday when I spotted the first buildings in the distance. I stopped in my tracks, shook my head and rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn't another mirage. When I opened my eyes again and the small sandstone buildings remained, I allowed myself a smile. “Is this the place?” I asked as I turned to my skeletal companion.

Its response came in the form of a nod as it stepped to stand next to me.

“Good, good-good,” I said, unable to hide the excitement in my voice as I began to walk forward, the sands giving way to rocky terrain. The closer I got to the village, however, the less excited I became. What looked like a normal settlement from a distance proved to be empty the moment I got close enough. As I walked through the eroded path, no people walked the streets with me but for my undead companion. The homes were all abandoned, with some collapsing or lacking doors. The animal pens outside some of the larger houses held only skeletons of what I assumed were once sheep. An air of loneliness washed over me as I looked around the empty village. What exactly happened here? Who lived here, and what happened to them?

As I kept walking, I noticed that there were traces of plant life around the village, but most of it was dried with the exception of a handful of cacti and the odd shrub. The largest congregation of greenery seemed to be around the center of the village, right around a well.

I held back my excitement as I slowly and carefully approached it. Please, don't be dry. I stood next to it for a few seconds, gathering my courage before I finally looked down into it. The feeling of humidity and the scent of moss, as well as the sight of a bucket floating on a liquid surface brought hope and relief to my heart. It still had water – dirty with lord knows what, but water nonetheless.

“YES!” I shouted to the heavens as I pumped my fist in victory. I stepped away from the well, giggling with joy. “Thank god it's not dry, right?” I turned to look at my companion, only to be met by the same blank face. “Right, sorry. Stay here while I go look for a few things,” I ordered him as I walked towards the nearby houses.

I needed the water, but first, I had to filter and boil it. I knew I had a tinderbox on my backpack, so that at least took care of the fire problem, all I needed now was a pot, a cloth, fuel to burn and something to pull water out of the well with. Easy.

I approached the nearest home and carefully opened the remains of the wooden door. I was met with the musty scent of decay and dust mixed with dried herbs. Sand crunched under my feet and insects scurried away to safety as I stepped inside. I looked around the tall and thick sandstone walls, which kept a surprisingly cool temperature inside, regardless of the desert heat outside. Potted plants hung from the ceiling, all of them long dead. A handful of beaten and battered reddish brown wooden shelves and cupboards lined the walls, holding flasks of dried leaves and what I assumed to be spices, their original scents taken away by time.

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I began my search in what I assumed was once a kitchen and found a rather small cast iron pot under a polished sandstone counter, covered in spider webs and insect corpses but in an otherwise good state. Perfect. Now I just needed the two other things.

I continued by looking through the shelves, finding all sorts of things ranging from spoons made of the same wood as the shelves – which I could use as fuel for the fire – to clay bowls and even a mortar and pestle made out of a rough, gray stone, which I decided to keep.

So far, I had some fuel, a pot, and a semi-intact clay bowl. I placed the items on the kitchen counter and nodded; this was a good start, now I just needed more. I stepped out of the house and moved onto the next.

Some of the homes were full of little things like wooden utensils, vases and the like, others had little else beyond dust and sand and some were completely inaccessible. My only way to keep track of time was the sun, and if I was reading it correctly, I must have spent three or four hours just scavenging. In the end, I gathered everything I found on the counter of the first house and assessed the situation. I had a decent amount of wood in the form of bits of broken doors, spoons and shelves, the remains of a cloth barely the size of a handkerchief which I could hopefully use as a filter, an empty vase, the cast iron pot, the mortar and pestle and the clay bowl. Hopefully, it'd be enough. I took the empty vase and the old hempen rope that secured the cloth around my head, tied the handle of it to the rope and walked back to the well, where my skeletal companion waited for me.

“Okay, please don't break,” I said as I began to carefully lower the vase into the water below, filling it to about halfway before I started to pull it out. The whole time, I was nervous something would happen, that the vase would shatter or the rope would snap, I waited for tragedy to strike, but it never did.

As I pulled the vase the last few centimeters and finally held it in my hands, I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. It didn't feel real, but the moisture coating the palms of my hands was as real as the sweat that soaked my skin. In my state of dehydration, a part of me simply wanted to drink the precious liquid right now, consequences be damned. It was an urge like no other, as my throat suddenly became as dry as the sandy dunes I came from. It took all of my willpower to ignore the call of the water, but after some time of simply marveling at the liquid, I finally managed to get my body to move.

“C-come,” I said to the skeleton as I began to walk back to the nearby home, suddenly feeling tired and heavy. I stepped inside the building and quickly began to work on purifying the water. I undid my headdress and used it to wipe the cast iron pot, cleaning it of dust to the best of my abilities before I started to filter the water.

I stacked a few pieces of wood on the counter to raise the vase, then twisted the cloth I found and dipped part of it in the dirty water, leaving the other end dangling just above the pot. Unless YouTube had lied to me – and I truly hoped it didn't – this would make the water flow down the cloth and come out relatively clean within a few hours. All that remained was for me to wait. I would have water within a few hours, so that was a big relief, but I still had to find something to eat.

I knew that the human body could go on for a week without food, but as the stomach pain hit me, it sure didn't feel like it. I closed my eyes and counted down from ten to help me deal with the feeling, but it remained there. The sensation of an empty stomach demanding for food was something I never had to experience in my previous life and that I now wished I'd never have to again. It wasn't painful, not all the time at least, but every little ache and grumble hit me like a truck, as it reminded me of the emptiness of my stomach, which made me think of food, creating a tortuous cycle of misery.

I opened my eyes again and looked around for something – anything – to distract me, and that's when I saw the scorpion. The arachnid was huge – about the size of my hand – and was crawling along the floor next to me. Normally, I'd have been scared or disgusted, but at that moment, all I saw was food.

I slowly unsheathed my knife and grabbed one of the spoons I'd collected. The only part that had venom in a scorpion was the tail; all I had to do was cut it off before it had a chance to sting me. I stood perfectly still, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As soon as the scorpion moved, I lunged for it. I swiftly trapped its body with the spoon and cut off half of its tail with the knife, depriving it of the sole weapon it had that could realistically harm me before it had a chance to use it.

Unable to defend itself from me anymore, I casually picked up the arachnid by what remained of its tail, staring at it for a moment as it tried to free itself from my grasp. “How many times more protein than beef?” I wondered aloud as I stared at the critter. “This is gonna suck…” Without further ceremony, I opened my mouth and dropped the scorpion in, biting down as soon as it was inside.

As expected, it was bad – crunchy in the worst way possible, with a soft interior that basically exploded in my mouth. The texture of the legs was the worst, as it seemed that no matter how much I chewed, I simply could not grind them. The squirming as it tried to escape, even as its body slowly turned into mush didn't help, either.

I was hungry, however, and light as a meal as it may have been, I felt much, much better once it settled into my stomach, which made the waiting for the water to finish filtering that much more manageable. As I waited, I couldn't help but think back to my previous life, about the things I left behind. Was I buried, or cremated? Which of my friends visited my grave? What would happen to my parents now that I wasn't there, would they be okay? Too many questions that I would probably never find the answers to. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed a distraction, and so I used the time I had to set up camp inside the old home, unfurling my bedroll and stacking wood for a campfire. The water was finished filtering by the time I was done, and while it still wasn't safe to drink, It looked much more appetizing than before.

Lighting the fire was difficult, even with the right tools. Using the lint and steel of the tinderbox was not as easy as it seemed; it took me a dozen or more tries to finally light the wood shavings that came in the box, and the flames almost died on five separate occasions. It took patience and careful vigilance, but eventually, I had fire, and soon after, I'd have water, sweet, sweet – and more importantly – safe to drink water.

Once I set the pot to boil, I thought of how lucky I was that I actually knew these things. “Oh, but Abigail, it's useless knowledge, whenever are you gonna use it Abigail?” I repeated the words of my friends with a mocking tone. “Well, guess who was right, Brittney? Not you!”

I laughed a little to myself, then began to undo the binding around my chest. “Am I right or am I right?” I jokingly asked my undead companion as I unwrapped the sweaty cloth. Nice as it was to have something damp around my torso during the day, it would only be a hindrance in the freezing cold night and early morning, so it would be best if I set it near the fire to-

“Yes.” A voice said from behind me, bringing my train of thought to a screeching halt. It was hollow and raspy, carrying an ethereal quality I couldn't describe.

I did a one-eighty, staring wide eyed at the skeleton, and, suddenly feeling a lot more self aware, I began to redo the binding. “Did you-? You just-!” My mouth kept moving but no words came out. How?! Why?! And most importantly:

“BITCH, YOU COULD HAVE TALKED TO ME THE ENTIRE TIME?!” I finally managed to say with a frustrated shout.

“Yes.” Was its plain answer. Its mouth remained immobile, its words instead coming from the air around it.

I massaged my forehead and sat down in the sand. “Why didn't you say anything until now?”

“I did not need to, champion, nor did you ask if I could.” It – he said as he knelt in front of me, bowing his head.

“Champion? how do you know about that?” I asked, and then a realization dawned on me. “Wait, is that why you obeyed my orders?”

“It is,” He said with a tone I now identified as reverence. “I know about it because of my undeath. I felt their divine presence calling me when the desert claimed my life but alas, I couldn't reach it. When you approached that desolate well, I felt it again, and when you spoke, the call of your words compelled me like no other, so I obeyed.”

“Compelled?” I asked with worry, considering the implications of the word. “I'm not forcing you to do anything, am I?”

“Do not fret, champion. I obey your will because I choose to, not because it forces me to. Your words call to me, but only that.” he said calmly.

I breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his reassurance. I don't know how I would have felt about forcing my will onto someone else.

I took a minute to regain my composure, staring at the remains of the man kneeling before me as if I were a queen. Beyond the scare he'd given me with this little revelation, it was a good thing he could talk. It'd be better than being trapped with my own thoughts, and unlike them, maybe he could answer some of the questions I had. I reached out a hand and placed it on his head.

“Just sit normally. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright.”

“As you command.” The skeleton leaned back to sit on the sandy floor, crossing his legs. “I will answer what I can, champion.”

I nodded as I thought of what to ask first. It didn't take me long to know what my first question would be. “Is this Earth?”

He stared back at me, head tilted to the side with what I assumed to be confusion. “If you wish to view sand that way, yes. It is earth of sorts.”

I stared back with a confused frown of my own. “But that's not–” I cut myself off with a sigh. I had a feeling that would be his answer, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Maybe some part of me hoped I could just waltz back home like nothing had ever happened, or maybe I hoped that there would at least be something familiar that I could cling to, even if it was just knowledge. I took a deep breath and relaxed my body. This was my new reality; better accept that now.

“Nevermind,” I said with a shake of my head. “Why don't you tell me who you are? Do you know what happened here?”

“You are a curious one, Champion.” He said as he stared at me with the same empty expression, seemingly considering his words before finally answering. “In life, my name was Isran; a proud alchemist born in the distant land of Zeyphos. I was accused and sentenced for a crime I never committed. My punishment; a lifetime of servitude, be it in life or death. I was afraid of my sentence, and so I fled and fled until I finally settled down in this village, making a living by trading in potions, elixirs and rare ingredients from the very home in which we now sit. As you can see, however, the spell cast on my soul followed me here.” He paused to look out one of the windows. “That is who I am. As to what happened to this place, you will see soon enough.”

I turned to look out the same window he was. It was almost nightfall, with just the lingering remains of sunlight in the sky. “What do you mean by that?”

It was almost as if a spell had been cast. The second those last tendrils of sunlight vanished, mere moments after the words left my mouth, that I heard loud screaming. I stood up as quickly as I could, scrambling to take my knife, if not to protect myself, then to at least feel safer. I finally managed to get a grip on the small blade and whipped back around to see my companion.

Isran remained exactly where he was, still sitting. Even though his skeletal features were incapable of expression, I could tell how calm he was about the whole situation, which somewhat eased my racing heart. He gestured towards the door with one hand. “Take a look outside, champion, therein lies your answer.”

I lowered my guard and slowly walked towards the door. For a moment, I just stood there, hesitant to even touch the door as the screaming continued outside. I took a deep breath to steel my nerves, and opened the door.

What I saw outside was death like I never had before. The ghostly forms of the villagers ran and screamed as a black monstrosity the size of a truck tore men, women and child limb from limb. The beast was some sort of biped with a coat of fur as black as the night, with two long and muscular arms with claws the size of my forearms. It had two smaller, yet powerful digitigrade legs with hooves in place of feet. Its hunched back was covered in ugly cysts and boils that pulsed and swelled in size every time it fed. Its mouth dripped with blood and a violet ooze-like substance that dissolved the flesh of those it touched. Its face looked like an unholy mixture of a wolf and a snake; a long snout that narrowed at the front with scales around its nose. The beast's snarling revealed the rows of teeth and two fangs the size of swords that retracted into its mouth. It lunged for a man who bravely, and foolishly rushed at it with a sword. The man stabbed the monster in its side, and in retaliation, the beast chomped down on him, doing the most minimal of chewing before swallowing him, unhinging its jaw as it did. All of that, however, paled in comparison to its eyes; dozens of little eyeballs at the front and sides of its skull, all staring in different directions, hungrily scanning the streets for more food.

I saw it gorging itself on the people it caught, the sheer glee on its dozen, gluttonous eyes as it cruelly devoured the flesh of its victims. I saw it crashing into homes to get to the people inside. All the while, panic reigned on the streets as both young and old ran, few of them making it to the desert, while the rest barely ran more than a few meters before becoming gory stains on the sand. The horrors I saw made me sick to my stomach in a way I never had been before. I turned around to go back inside, only to see the ghostly figure of a man run through me as he escaped. He made a beeline towards the well and hid, breathing heavily as he clutched a small leather backpack to his chest.

I stumbled towards him. “What's happening?” I asked, but the spirit didn't answer, not even looking at me. Instead, he remained there, breathing heavily as he peeked over the well towards the beast.

By now, the screaming had slowed down, with most villagers either dead or escaped. The beast prowled the streets, looking for more prey. It stopped next to the largest home, and suddenly began to claw at it, tearing chunks of sandstone off of the roof. There were the panicked screams of a man and woman inside as I heard the crying of a babe.

I turned back to look at the man hiding behind the well, and as I did, I noticed what he was wearing; a linen robe with a leather belt around his rather large waist with a waterskin and a small knife attached to it. His eyes were wide with panic and his face looked pale. He peeked one last time, and then ran into the desert. As he did, the screams of the man and woman were silenced, and soon, the cries of the baby reached a crescendo before being replaced by a horrible crunching sound. I didn't dare to look, and instead, kept my gaze on the running man until he, alongside the other spirits, faded into smoke. A deep silence followed, accompanied by a chill colder than the desert night.

I turned around and saw Isran standing there, looking at me expectantly.

“That was you, wasn't it?” I asked.

He gave a slow, grim nod. “I was not as thin as you see me now.” He joked, but I could tell it was a poor attempt to keep the mood up.

I felt my chest tightening as I regarded the ruins of the village once more. Wordlessly, I stepped closer to Isran. My eyes stung and my breathing became erratic as I closed the distance between us, but I didn't stop until he was within reach.

I lunged and wrapped my arms around him, finally allowing my tears to flow freely. “I'm so sorry for what happened here, for what happened to you, to all these people…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I held him tighter. “You didn't deserve this.”

Isran, on the other hand, remained still, seemingly unsure what to do. His jaw opened and closed, as if he were trying to articulate words but coming up empty. In the end, his skeletal arms wrapped around me as well. “I see now… I see why you were chosen, champion.”

He let me go and stepped back, opening the door to the abandoned home – his home – and guiding me inside. “Come, it is far too cold out here for you. Rest for the night, and tomorrow we may leave this place.”

I didn't answer. When I went back inside, I saw the water I'd left to boil was already bubbling, but as I removed it from the fire and let it cool, I found that I wasn't thirsty anymore. Still, I filled my waterskin to the top, and drank whatever was left over before undressing and leaving my rags to dry near the fire. I got into my bedroll and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep while my mind raced a thousand thoughts per minute.

Earlier, finding this village had felt like a victory. Now, I wasn't so sure.

In the realm of the dual god, they said that all their children – all souls – eventually returned to be reborn in the black sands, so it stood to reason that what I witnessed here were not ghosts nor wraiths, but rather nothing more than the echoes of a tragedy from a time long since past. These people probably existed somewhere else now, unaware of their past lives, and yet, I couldn't help but feel for them. I knew what death felt like, I knew the feeling of powerlessness as your life slips away, but to meet such a violent and sudden end? It was no wonder the memories of it had stuck for such a long time.

It took several hours of calming myself down and taking deep breaths, but in the end, I finally managed to sleep. That night, my dreams were nothing but a pitch black nothingness that left me feeling uneasy come the morning. My thoughts never once abandoned me as I got dressed and readied to move on. As I took the first step outside Isran's former home, I felt my consciousness tug at me, telling me that I shouldn't leave until something was done, but could I even do anything? I ignored the feeling and moved on, my mind gnawing at me the whole way to the edge of the village. I kept my eyes down, and because of that, I noticed the faint hoof and claw marks on the sand. I stopped in my tracks and stared at them.

“What is it, champion?” Isran asked with a voice of curiosity as he stood behind me.

I didn't answer, keeping my eyes on the imprints in the sand. Only one beast I knew of could have left these behind. As I looked, images of the carnage played on a loop in my mind, each repetition somehow worse than the last. One hand gripped my knife like my life depended on it, while my heart pounded in my chest. Fear, however, wasn't the only emotion I felt. This monster had taken everything from these people. It turned a peaceful village into a graveyard.

I wouldn't let it happen again.

I turned to Isran, the grip on the hilt of my small blade tightening. “We're not leaving, not yet,” I said, my voice steady despite my emotions.

Isran tilted his head, a hint of curiosity in his empty eye sockets. “We cannot stay, champion; the beast still roams this desert,” he calmly pointed out.

“I know. That's why we're staying. All this time, this monster has been roaming the land, killing, devouring. What happened here may have happened elsewhere already.” I replied, shaking my head. “I won't let it continue. The death and destruction this thing has caused ends here.”

As the words left my mouth, a strange sense of calm washed over me. The fear was still there, but now, it was little more than white noise, drowned out by something much stronger. I began to walk back to the heart of the village, each step firmer than the last.

Isran remained at my side. “What is the first step, champion?” he asked, his ethereal voice swelling with pride.

“Planning,” I said, my mind already swarming with ideas. “We need to understand its patterns, its weaknesses. And then we strike.”

This beast would know the strength of my will.