Hell is Empty

A suffocating cloud of pristine sand had blotted out the sky, and hurricane winds were raging across the vast sea of white dunes. The world was perfectly white and suffused with incinerating heat. The grains of sand cut the skin like knives, but six fragile humans stubbornly marched forward through the radiant inferno, covering their eyes with tired hands and struggling against the wind. 

Sunny was at the head of the small column, shielded from the hurricane, somewhat, by Saint's indomitable back. There was a piece of black glass in his hand, and in it dwelled a reflection of a young man with one shining mirror-like eye. 

"Hurry, Sunless… you are almost there, but you must hurry. The creature is drawing close."

'Shut up, bastard... I know... I know it all!'

Gritting his teeth, Sunny pushed through the wind and walked forward.