River of Sand

Damian couldn't believe it. Right at sunset, near the end of his sanity—his eyes widened in shock. Right at the abrupt end of the tall forest, Damian stood with his feet slightly buried in the sand—the scenery around him had flipped right on its head. Staring out into the distance, all he could see was an almost infinite stretch of grey sand dunes extending out in front of him.

'Wow, what the hell is this place? Is this what the outside world actually looks like? Why is the ground so… soft?'

Digging his feet into the sand, he attempted to fully absorb the incredibly alien experience. It was a remarkable sight and feeling. Almost as if separated by an infinite wall of glass, the two vastly different regions coexisted without either even remotely intruding onto the other. At this line, Damian stood. One foot lay submerged in sand, while the other rested firmly on the rich forest vegetation. As far as his eyes could see, the forest and grey sand stretched from left to right without any sign of ending.

However, this was only the case for the length of the forest border. Damian now choosing to keenly observe the desert's forward depth noticed yet again, another extraordinary sight.

Far in the distance, a remarkable range of mountains could be seen smothered in clouds. From left to right, however, there again appeared to be no end in length as it also seemed to follow the desert passing the horizon. For as incredible as the grey desert appeared, it felt more like the border itself with this realization—dividing the endless forest and the towering mountains. A river of sand separated the two disparate regions. Appreciating the nature around him—he slowly frowned; adjusting his eyes toward the setting sun:

Aware of the inevitable nightfall, Damian pressed on with grim determination—entrusting himself to the glass.

— —

Out in a barren grey desert in the black of night, a small light shone traversing the dunes at a labored uneven pace. Upon closer inspection, a cloaked figure presented itself holding a small guiding light; treading the grey sands. From the hood, his arcane golden mask shimmered in the presence of his glowing glass shard.

'Where am I even going? I can't see anything! Although, the moon is very pretty… but that's beside the point!'

Pausing for a moment, Damian studied the environment around him. Far behind him in the distance, even in the black of night; a small silhouette of the endless forest could still be spotted. However, this observation took an unexpected turn as his eyes gravitated toward a strange light shining from the peak of a large dune sitting directly behind him. He had crossed the sandhill not too long ago, but now there appeared to be something completely new claiming the top.

Straining his eyes, Damian attempted to identify the light. And after a long concentrated gaze, his eyes finally caught something:

'Is that the… magician?'

Standing at the peak, appeared to be that familiar hooded figure from the disaster at the campfire. Only now, a small torch occupied his hand lighting up the grey sand around him. With Damian glaring holes into the back of the magician's head, he intuitively twisted to meet his confused gaze.

'How did he even get here? Let alone the fact that we had been so close to each other. ….And now he sees me. Oh, he's heading this way too. Hold on a second… if he's here, does that mean he killed the beast? If not. Hmm, I guess someone to help with defending against that monster is good—on the off chance I see that thing again, of course. Let's just ask.'

Effortlessly crossing the dunes, the magician finally greeted the masked merchant—his face expressionless.

"It's good to see you again, sir. I had… I had thought you might've perished along with the others." Damian spoke to the magician in somber tones.

"...I merely got lucky, merchant." The magician replied in a monotone return.

"Do I take it that you succeeded in slaying the foul monster?"

"No." The magician answers in disinterest—clearly refusing to elaborate.

'Haha… I don't think he likes me.'

Taking a small break from the constant walking, Damian paused to explain to the merchant his circumstances. Of course, without going over the fact that he killed the large man in grey obviously.

Learning of the current situation, the magician subtly scrunched his brow:

'The relic had guided you here?"

"That is correct," Damian affirmed.

"Hmm… we shall continue to follow the glass, but soon I would like to rest for a moment.." The magician claimed, ever indifferent to the world around him.

'...Ya know it wouldn't hurt to smile every once in a while.'

Together, the two mysterious beings continued their vast journey across the grey desert. Eventually, beneath the shining moon, they chose to rest for a momentary silence with the magician again igniting a small fire to light their surroundings.

The two sat quietly with Damian calmly assessing the situation:

'Again with that fire… He must be Imprinted. Although I've never seen one in person, there are a few key ideas engraved in the whole of the city regarding them: With runes tattooing their bodies, they are granted inhuman strength and power. Other than this, I don't exactly know anything else considering they mostly live either outside or deep within the city.'

'I would also assume that the others I met earlier are imprinted as well. In fact, doesn't this mean I've also killed an imprinted? Isn't something like that even more impressive? …Wow, good job me I guess.'

'Lastly, there is definitely something very strange going on with my body. Now that my adrenaline has warmed off, I'm noticing that I haven't gone hungry or thirsty throughout the whole of this journey—only tired. Am I even human?'

Left with such complicated thoughts, Damian could only grow more confused as his small rest passed by.

— —

Damian couldn't remember exactly when it started. But the sand slowly began to change. Something he had realized later on when following the glass was that it wasn't guiding him to the mountains far in the distance. It was unexpectedly leading him further and further into the heart of the desert. And you could see it. The sand had grown sturdy and clumped together—now closer to sandstone than fine grains. Even more striking is the numerous odd structures piercing out from the hardened sand. Some looked to be remnants of civilization whilst others resembled something far closer to horrifying fossils and bones of unimaginable creatures of the distant past.

Damian walked with a grim expression, hoping never to come across something this horrible alive in the coming future. The slow pace and harrowing sight left him feeling distant:

'Will I ever be able to return home? What happens after following the glass? What the hell has been happening these past days?'

Overall, this entire experience felt truly unbelievable for him—in a matter of days, he had seen more of the outside world than any normal civilian would ever get to witness for entire lifetimes. This thought simply left Damian perplexed and even proud to a microscopic extent. However, this isn't what matters at the moment. Because the treacherous outside world is still not done with him.

"Stop moving," the magician calmly demanded.

Quickly snapping out of his daydreaming, Damian froze in place; confused.

The magician, remaining a stoic poise slowly announced:

"It's here."

"What are you talking about? What is here?" Damian inquired, but the magician did not answer; remaining still—his eyes locked ahead.

To the front, the land seemed to slope upwards, preventing any vision past roughly a couple dozen meters from their standpoint. At the sloped hill, however, he saw something slowly immerge from the grey sand hills.

Damian's eyes shot wide open in horror:

It was that same familiar black beast from the forest. At a staggering three meters in height, the strangely human-like monstrosity slowly limped, approaching from the dune summit—now bearing scars of the previous battle. Horrible gashes and cuts littered the creature's body while a trail of bloody tear tracks stained the left side of its face. Even an entire left arm had gone missing...

Under the incredible moonlight above, its black fur reflected an almost metallic glow while its pale ashen face caved in on itself around its empty unnatural eyes. However, from its gangling arms, its sharp talons had actually not arrived empty-handed: From its long and disproportioned claws, something had been pierced, getting dragged along the sand as it had crossed the grey dunes.

It was the huntress. Mangled and dead.