Chapter Twelve

Katalene let out a breath, the time neared.

It had ten days since Rooven had died and nine days since she’d come to meet The Hallow group. Since they hogtied her in the middle of the desert and left her to suffer. They intended to make her one of their Sensations or a Target, either way, in the end, they intended to kill her. Little words were spoken telepathically between Sol and Katalene, it wasn’t as though they had much to say to one another, after all.

The endeavor set before them had to begin, and it would be a grueling one that neither was likely to make it back from. Sol was a powerful creature, by all definitions, but The Dragon Creature could be outnumbered. She only hoped that her contribution with the poison had helped thin the herd. She had one more idea left, as well.

Katalene wore her scarf and hooded clothing as she entered The Sanctuary, a task that was never difficult. Anyone who made the trip to their fort obviously had the escort of one of the sand rays, she doubted The Hallow members tried to keep tabs on everyone. She walked through, eyeballing the buildings painted with faces on them, the blacks and the whites, the tan and the bright. The buildings aligned, adjacent to one another, forming a color palate, one that went from the darkest of the dark to the palest of pigment. The faces were detailed, this was the first time Katalene had noticed they were drawn up to look as if the Sensations were screaming, the mouth leading through the doorway. The visitors likely saw different meaning from the illustrations, but that’s what Katalene chose to see: a group of screaming faces.

The night air had begun to loom in, their ritual would soon start. All the visitors would strip naked and unarmed, the only ones with weapons were The Hallow members themselves. It was as close to a perfect time for attack as any, and about the best they could ever expect to have.

The food was still out, still sprawled out about tables every few feet. The Hallow must not have realized it was poisoned yet, either that, or the effects might take longer to come into effect than what she expected. The kitchen had a lot of food, more than Katalene had plants to contaminate it with. Some of that food might have been brought out last or not been ate. The pesticides would be widespread though, that was assured, contaminating the drinking supply, but she had no way of knowing how soon the effects would be. She remembered being told as a child of what many of the pesticides were capable of, but never thought to ask how fast their deadliness would kill humans. A pity, Katalene admitted to herself.

It was for the best that The Hallow hadn’t caught on that the food was poisoned yet, as it would have made a hurdle for one of her next objectives. Standing quietly in viewing distance of the tent, she watched, waiting and waiting, waiting for the food to be collected and for the tent to be emptied out.

After that, the next step in her plan could begin. Which, she thought, would be a difference-maker. The Hallow treated the tent for preparation, it was where the Targets were stowed away and kept to be brought out and killed for sport. The Targets were distinctive from the Sensations that were kept in the buildings, because they hadn’t been lobotomized yet, they were still conscious and vaguely attentive. Katalene observed that from the way they fought back during the final trial conducted at the end of each night. The Hallow kept them locked away, but right beside them, they kept other things, the kitchen wasn’t too far away, and they even stored the candles for the trial. They also had racks loaded up with various weapons.

Katalene intended to free the Targets from out of the cages and provide them weapons to fight for their lives in the war. She didn’t expect an army of them and they would be far from the greatest warriors, but she thought, equipped with weaponry, against naked chanters, they’d have a strong upper-hand.

A surreal feeling had overcome her from the very second she walked into The Sanctuary, a feeling of adrenaline and yet, a distance away from all that was happening around her. It was a feeling of complete shock, a tingly feeling, acceptance of the end.

The Hallow came by, four of them, three of them pushing carts of food, the fourth walking with a readied stance.

The Whispey Deserts were very cold during the night, cold enough she would be surprised if the naked men didn’t die from hypothermia during the rituals from time to time. But, right now, Katalene felt such vibrant warmth, she could feel the sweat running down her back.

As The Hallow members began to vacate the tents, having thrown out all the food from the night’s event. She’d have to be quick to make for certain that none of Targets digested any of the food, for risk of them being poisoned as well. Katalene waited until they were far enough that they’d be a non-issue, watching them walk away toward the front-gate of the fort. She brought a breath into her lungs and let it leave her, withdrawing her blade out from the gauntlet and marching toward the tent.

She’d liberate the Targets and equipped them with weapons, then, they could begin their attack.

“Brace yourself, Sol,” she instructed, spreading open the tarp doors wide and walking through. “Fuck,” she thought next.

The inside of the tint was illuminated by candles, and standing before her were five cloaked men, their faces obscured by scarves, their scimitars drawn from out their scabbards. Their stances were readied, they had, on some level, expected her.

Katalene backed away for a moment, like it was with The Bulky Man, she knew she would not be able to stand a fight between them. She turned herself and began to flee, only to see another group of men on the outside, staring back at her. There wasn’t time for a second thought, and, because of that, Katalene swung her blade with all her might at one of the men, who blocked it with his sword. She spiraled her body around in a twist and swung her blade at another man, who blocked it as well. One person tried for an attack of his own, aiming specifically at her legs. It was a curious fact, it told her that he wasn’t intending to kill her, or, at least, might not have been. She leaped over the sword and attempted a stab at his throat with her blade that missed, swiping beside the side of his head.

The battling didn’t last very much longer, greatly outnumbered, Katalene felt a blade peek out from behind her head, at the side of her neck, and felt the tip of a sword touch her throat.

“If you fight, you die,” A man said, grabbing at the scarf over her head and yanking it off her forcefully.

Katalene gagged for a moment, and, as she did, another man walked by her and stepped on the back of her blade, pinning her to the ground. She retracted the blade instinctively and felt shackles wrap around her wrists. The shackles were tight and forceful, by her hair, she was pulled back to her feet. She could feel the swords poking her back behind her.

“Move forward,” The same man demanded, a cold, dry plainness to his voice as he spoke.

Katalene obliged, it wasn’t as though she had any options, though, she found her eyes wandering about the area for some means of attack or escape. They led her onward.

“What’s happening, Katalene?” Sol asked in her head, evidently able to sense the dread she felt.

“I was captured by a few of the men, I don’t know where they’re taking me,” She replied, feeling the sword in her back nudge her on.

“I’m on my way,” The Dragon replied, though, she knew there was little he would be able to do for her.

The Hallow would likely kill her in a knee jerk reaction at the very sight of The Dragon. One way or another, Katalene knew she would be dead by the night’s end, she could accept that if Sol was still able to bring at least a few of them down with her.

They brought her forward, and, in time, it was clear where they were taking her, a small gathering had already begun congregating for the ritual. They walked her front-and-center, the feeling of the painted and naked beings’ eyes on her was uncomfortable. She only hoped that Sol hurried fast so that her death could be a fast one, instead of one that included whatever it is they had in mind.

As Katalene walked fourth, she met eyes with the leader of The Hallow, Shear, the man she’d met that had brought her into this world. Shear’s face lit up with a smile at the very sight of her.

“Strong woman,” Shear commented, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. “This woman right here, I found running around like a chicken with its head cut off through the Whispey Deserts. The girl was playing with sticks and hadn’t a prayer at making it out. I made the mistake of assuming she was weak. She killed one of my men, and so, I left her beneath the blistering sun above. I came back for her and I had her ready to carry back, ready to take her for a whirl and make a woman out of her, I never would have expected a dragon to interrupt us!” Shear put emphasis on the last little bit, and while individuals feigned shock, she very much doubted this was the first time they’d been told this story by him.

The way they were painted, from this perspective, beneath the vials of candles that were scattered around for the ritual, it hadn’t occurred to Katalene how they looked. Their face-paint, some of the paint made it look like they had large, razor sharp teeth. Some of them were painted to look like fire, flaming dimly on in the night Some of them had black around their eyes like raccoons with pale white paint over their face, reminding Katalene of skeletons. Beneath the candlelight, it looked like monsters and demons were being rallied by Shear. Seeing them together made it difficult to think of the individual, they felt like the embodiment of one force, a Hell in itself. But they didn’t believe in Hell. That’s what one of the men said. And so, they made Hell in the Deserts.

“This woman survived all that, by herself. A fucking Dragon, are you kidding me!? This woman survived a Dragon and found The Sanctuary, deciding to plot her revenge. She killed one of The Hallow members, a newly appointed man, big guy named Turkei, and me and all of you saw what he was capable of.” Shear looked over to Katalene with, almost, a look of respect. “You will notice many of your friends are missing as well, that’s because she went into our storage tent and contaminated our food and drinking supplies. Everything aside, it’s amazing for something like this to happen. You have to believe God was involved in the whole affair.”

“God was watching over each and every one of us and testing our collective strength. I survived the Dragon attack, all by myself as a message from God. Had The Hallows’ finest not caught onto her nefarious intentions and whipped up a new feast in the kitchen, many of you would not be standing with us on this night.” Shear raised his arms up, bringing the crowd to an uproarious ovation.

“Someone like me surviving The Dragon’s attack, that’s understandable, but someone like her surviving it, well, that’s unbelievable. And, from that, I gather that she is not alone,” Katalene heard a loud noise and turned her head to see what it was, the hard-stone gates were being closed shut by the men. “The Sanctuary does not come without its detractors, nonbelievers will rally against what their brains are not minded enough to fathom. Their brains are misshapen. They’re missing certain vital aspects that don’t allow them to see things the way we do. Doctor Rindan and his studies help vouch for that! And, because of that, we will do away with them. She will be evidence to that fact, tonight.”

Katalene shook about her arms, attempting to break free from her shackles. It was a hopeless act, but she was still coming from an adrenaline high and still had so much fight left in her. She didn’t have it in her to simply lay down and let them kill her. She felt the back of her skull struck by an elbow, or, maybe, the hilt of a sword. She dropped to her knees, feeling the blood pour out her mouth.

“Don’t ruin the merchandise,” Shear commented. Crouching down to Katalene’s level, “Normally, our women, our men, The Sensations, I have those brought in from The Unprotected Wilderness. You see, our Doctor, he’s a young man and he’s learning, he likes to poke and prod, and when he’s done, he knows how to make them all compliant. Lobotomizes them and makes them dumb and awestruck, makes ’em see stars, you see? He’d love you. But, he won’t get you, because you went ahead and angered me,” He spoke in a shouting whisper, “Instead, what I’ll do is I’ll take a knife of mine and I’ll dig at the back of your skull, scrape at and twist the blade around in your brain until you’re all retarded like. And then, whether you’re dead or not, I will strip you down and fuck you hard up the ass in-front of all these people, and they’ll cheer me on like the hero they know I am. That’s what I’m going to do.”

Shear climbed to his feet, and then, a mere second later, the sound of something smacking against the gates of The Sanctuary sounded. It was a loud thud, very loud, and it left no mystery to Katalene on what caused it.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to break it down, Sol,” Katalene said to him in her head, the high was starting to leave her, and, in its place, a feeling of defeat and sadness, bracing herself for the pain that was sure to come.

Shear looked over to it in shock. Then, as The Hallow members started toward that direction. “Don’t open it until I finish!” He yelled, “Then, we’ll kill whoever’s coming a’ knockin’!”

As Shear walked back toward Katalene, she leaped to her feet fast, slapping her back against the jaw of his mouth, stunning him. Katalene looked around in her desperation. Her eyes looked out at the monstrous crowd in-front of her, then, felt her knee clipped from behind. She felt the feel of Shear’s dagger at the top of her head, scraping and carving at the top of her head. The blood bled out from her forehead, the pain was immense. She simply stood there, however, in silent agony and shock of the fact. The pain hurt, but on a distant level, as if it didn’t have full impact. The worst part was that she could hear the grinding sound of the skin from the top of her head being carved into. The blood completely covered her face, blinded her.

She could feel that a small flap of her skin was pulled up from her skull. She breathed heavily, shaking uncontrollably and helplessly. She felt afraid. Terrified. She could hear the loud cheering from the crowd.

The next sound was of their screaming, of a loud earthquake vibration. The knife left from off Katalene’s scalp and she felt herself fall flatly to the sand. Through the reddish layer of tint, she could see Sol as he scraped and crawled at all the men and women. He could have been outnumbered, had everyone thought to do so. Sol was smart, however. He attacked The Hallow members first, they were the ones that were armed. Then, he did away with them, he bit off their heads, he slapped at them with his tail, whatever he could do.

“Kill them, kill them all!” Katalene instructed, and kill them, he did.

The crowd was too busy trying to flee to think about their chances at swarming The Dragon. The Hallow members flung arrows from afar at the Dragon. They pierced its skin and it bled, but it didn’t wane in its attack. The Hallow threw swords in its direction, and in turn, Sol turned his intentions to them and flung them as far as he could. Katalene could feel her ears ringing and a nauseous feeling like she was about to vomit. In an effort of great exertion, she found way back to her knees and, then, back to her feet. She searched about the fort, watching the commotion unfold before her. A large naked man ran and came into her line of vision, and, instinctively, she drove her boot up, kicking him between the legs. The man fell in agony and, a second later, Katalene walked on and stomped on his throat with all her might, killing him, she assumed. She couldn’t hear him choke behind her, but she couldn’t hear much of anything at the moment, only felt the vibrations of Sol stomping about the area.

Whipping her hair back, trying to wipe the blood out from in-front of her face, she was offered a better, clearer look at her surroundings. Sol massacred everyone he could see, but what Katalene was more taken by were the wings that now protruded from his back. The wings were widespread, and they sent waves of sand flying out at anyone that neared him. It was another advantage that Sol had been given. The crowds were abundant, so much so that everyone was in too much of a panic to care about Katalene and her new-found liberation. Soon, she did find herself bumped up against with enough force that it took her off from her feet, herself unable to do anything to stop it. She felt the ache of her hands at they were smashed into the ground from under her weight, but, she also felt the hard-rock feel of something beneath her. A scimitar that belonged to one of The Hallow members, she presumed. Adjusting her positions accordingly, she held the dull part of the blade against her back and the sharp part against her shackles, she rubbed the blade against the chains. “Come on, come on.”

She wasn’t for certain any friction was building, and only stopped when she felt someone’s foot step near the top of her skull. The act was enough to make her scream and scream loudly, it was as if she had completely forgotten about how a few inches of the skin on the top of her head was now hanging on like a fucking flap, it was a shock she hadn’t bled out or lost consciousness, or even, quite simply, died. Sol ran by her and slapped his tail over her body, bringing everyone around her off from their feet. Then, he grabbed her by the stomach and lifted her up to a standing position. Instinctively, Katalene began to fold back, the amount of pain she felt was such a striking amount now that she couldn’t tolerate it. Sol, however, did not allow it, straightening her up again with his hands, he turned her around and split apart the chains from the shackles.

“You need to cover your wound, now!” Sol instructed.

Katalene’s teeth were clenched so tightly over her bottom lip that she could feel herself gnawing through her skin. She nodded her head in a state of confusion, looking around the scattered bodies that Sol left to lay in his wake. Stealing ones’ scarf, she wrapped it around her head, still feeling the blood let itself out, she felt light-headed, but still alert enough that the wound felt very sensitive. Quiet whimpers escaped her as she situated the makeshift bandages.

Sol seemed unfazed by most of the men, able to battle them off with relative ease. Everyone not cohesive enough to realize their numbers advantage. If they ganged up on him, they could surely distract him long enough to do some serious damage. That meant many of them would have to sacrifice themselves for that benefit, and selfless casualties didn’t seem ideal to the lot of them. Instead, a great portion of them opted for the only apparent alternative they had, they tried to run away from him, back to their homes, she presumed. After all, The Hallow members had closed the gates, taking escape away.

Katalene definitely felt the shock and shaky agony that came with her blood-loss but had so much adrenaline coursing through her that she felt nowhere close to losing consciousness. Her boots stamped fast against the desert sands, chasing after a nearby person fleeing away from the fight. She drew her blade from her gauntlet and pounced off one of the naked women, driving her blade into the back of their neck. She looked up in time to see a Hallow member bringing their scimitar down over her head. In the nick of time, she rolled away from her current position, watching the scimitar pierce into the back of the naked man.

The Hallow man grabbed his blade out from the man’s flesh and yanked it free, by that time, Katalene had readied herself. She aimed her blade at his chest and went for a stab, only for The Hallow man to dodge the attack on reflex. He attempted to drive his forearm against her wounded forehead, but she ducked beneath it, flipping him over her back and dropping him onto the sand. She pivoted her body back as fast as she could, hoping to capitalize, but wasn’t fast enough as The Hallow man had already returned to his feet and readied his sword for the defensive.

Katalene prepared for a strike, but decided against it, stepping out of the way as Sol threw a particularly heavy-set painted woman at him from behind. The man fell harshly against the sand, himself stuck beneath the woman, who was surely dead weight. She walked over to him, a weak smile on her face, and slid her blade across his throat.

Katalene looked up at Sol from afar, and Sol returned the gaze. All The Hallow members were dead, all that was left to do was gather up the visitors. Then again, it didn’t matter if they did or not. After they found the stables and killed the sand rays, it wasn’t as if any of them would be able to survive long enough to make it to Maharris’ Trade Network or any part of Zeal. The visitors would finish the remainder of food and water, and, eventually, they would die. Something about that seemed almost poetic to Katalene. Still, it was something that she wouldn’t let happen. It left too many loose-ends, she’d much rather go door to door and kill every single person that remained.

She walked nearer to Sol, whose armor had turned out to be an enormous difference maker. His armor had scrapes and scratches aplenty, covered in blood and sand, it was far from the shiny silver it started as, but, for the most part, he was no worse for wear.

“How do you feel?” Sol asked, standing tall in-front of Katalene, massacred bodies surrounding her. He had bitten their heads clean off on some, had crushed their rib-cages in with his feet and broken others in half with his tail. A mess of blood was spilled around The Sanctuary, the whole area had the smell of body odor and, of course, especially, blood. “You have what you wanted? Do you feel better?”

Katalene felt the top of her head where the knife had started to dig off her hairline, “Where’s Shear?” She asked, looking around the stack of bodies, unable to locate him.

“Was that the person who cut you with the knife?” Sol inquired, looking around the macabre himself, a feast for the eyes if ones’ nourishment was morbidity.

Katalene nodded.

“I’m unsure,” Sol admitted, stepping around the bodies carefully.

Katalene found it peculiar the way he was careful not to step on anyone, what, considering he was the reason they were lying there dead in the first place.

“Must have been one of the heads that was crushed,” Sol said.

Katalene shrugged. In truth, that fact disappointed her dearly, she wanted to be the one to kill Shear, or, at least, have been able to identify his remains for herself. However, the fact remained that everyone involved in The Sanctuary was dead, or would soon be dead.

She walked through the sands of The Sanctuary, many tables had been crushed and from the commotion that had occurred, she was surprised a fire hadn’t been started from all the candles scattered about. The light of the sun dying out behind them bled illumination from obscurity, and as she walked onward, she once more looked at all the buildings, the ones with faces on them, the ones that housed the Sensations.

It was a conflicting and bittersweet feeling that she felt in her chest. The fort had become nothing except a graveyard, but it couldn’t turn back time. The Sensations already had their lives taken from them. Their minds were broken beyond all repair and nothing she could do could fix that. The only single fact she could cling onto was that they could no longer grasp what was happening to them. That their suffering had ended. Their fate was one that laid heavy in the back of Katalene’s mind.

The hundred-or-so dead corpses would most likely scare away anyone who thought they might repopulate the fort or make use of it. That offered some closure to the whole ordeal, a bit of finality to keep her from waking up at night.

* * *

Katalene walked through the tent with a strange feeling of easiness, one that contrasted all she previously felt with walking through the same tent. Her footsteps had quickened at a single thought, the thought of the Targets that were still locked up in the tent. She walked fourth with her blade drawn out, ready to go on the attack should the situation call for it. Considering how large The Sanctuary was, she wouldn’t be surprised if there were more than a few survivors of her and Sol’s attack.

The odorous scent was as strong as ever and as she finally met the onyx tinted cage and opened the flap that peeked into the room, she did not hear a commotion. Though, the tint’s confines were dark enough that she couldn’t very well distinguish their contents. She found herself without a pine stick, and thereby, she knew the only solution would be to open the door and investigate more closely.

“I’m a friend!” Katalene announced, “Let’s not make any jumps or swarming attempts when I open the door, alright? The ones who took you are dead.”

Katalene readied her blade and felt at the chains that locked them up into the cage, she couldn’t see their condition very well, but, while they felt old, they felt secure. She lifted her blade up and brought it down with all her might. It came down with full-force but didn’t force the chains to sever, instead, it was the second attempt that did the trick. At once, she pulled open the large door and stepped back, ready to defend herself should the Targets be too overzealous in being liberated.

She didn’t experience that, however. In-fact, in anticipation, she stepped back and away from the door, expecting it to be barged open the minute the Sensations were sure the locks were off. That didn’t happen, there was no reaction whatsoever. The first instinct she had turned out to be the accurate one, as she walked into the cage for only a few feet and stepped on the lifeless body of one of the targets. The smell of food to the left of her, where the flap would have let out at. The poisonous food might not have been on-par with The Hallows’ standards when it came to feeding the customers, but it wasn’t worth letting go to waste. A small trickling of guilt washed up on the shores of Katalene’s mind, more casualties in her endeavor. They would have died anyways, however, had she not interfered with The Hallows’ intentions, but that didn’t make it feel anymore okay.

The bodies hadn’t been dead for very long, Katalene could tell after she blindly rested her hand on the chest of one of them. She could feel the warmth the body still carried.

It was for the best that each of them received a respectful end, that was Katalene’s first thought. The Sensations in the houses had clipboards detailing information about who they were and where they came from. It was reasonable to believe that The Hallow would also keep tabs on some of the Targets, potential information about ones’ former residence, or, at the very least, their name would be beneficial.

Katalene needed to go back and gather a pine stick and other supplies to bring the tent into the light. If she did that, and could, then, find documents pertaining to such information, she could find each ones’ family and return their remains for a proper burial.

She turned herself away, about to make her leave to do as such, then, felt a blunt object strike her in the back of the head.

2

There are pleasant settings to wake up from. The Gardens of Beccah were exceptionally beautiful, for instance. Or, at least, so she’d been told. Furthermore, there are more pleasant places to wake up than in a cage filled with lifeless corpses.

Beggars can’t be choosers though, she supposed, and slowly, Katalene ascended to a seated position. The back of her head was bruised, but the most concentrated agony was at the top of her forehead. The motherfucker Shear had forever ended any chances she ever had of winning one of the beauty contests that was held in Jerleak, she knew that much without even seeing her reflection. Katalene touched the top of her head and winced.

“Fucking, ah, fucking, fucking, fuck,” Katalene cried beneath her breath, hurting each time she touched the wound, but feeling unable to leave it alone.

“You’re conscious,” Sol said, entering her mind with a matter of fact tone to him.

“Oh, really, did you sense my regained consciousness, then, it’s a powerful, little gauntlet.” Katalene remarked, some pain and annoyance in her retort.

“We’re very connected,” Sol concurred, then, added: “That, and I heard your many fucks.”

“I give no fucks,” Katalene mumbled, stretching her muscles out, looking about the blackness with little discomfort.

“The evidence begs to differ,” Sol countered.

Katalene sighed for a moment, then, heard the breathing sound coming from just outside the cage.

“Are you sitting in the dark right now, … have you been sitting there the whole time while I was unconscious!?” Katalene asked.

“Dragons actually have the ability to see in the dark, I’ll have you know. It’s the way I was able to find you. But, … yeah, that’s about the sum of it.”

“And, what do you do when I’m not with you, exactly?”

“Wait for you to get back,” Sol answered honestly.

“That’s sad,” Katalene said. “You need a hobby, Sol.”

Katalene touched the back of her head some more, making absolutely for certain her brain wasn’t on the verge of spilling out from her skull. It wasn’t, thankfully, the scarf had done its job and felt crusty from dry blood to the touch. As she returned to her feet, her back was dampened with what she could only expect was mud or shit, or the leftovers of the foods, it felt disgusting to feel it drool off the back of her clothes.

“Did you have a nice rest?” Sol asked.

“Fantastic, feel like a million coin,” Katalene deadpanned, walking out from the cage with a sense of unease. “Did you happen to see where that person went? The one who attacked me?”

“I hurried as soon as I could, but didn’t know to look for a person,” Sol answered.

“The person couldn’t have made it far, I suppose. The only way out is from the gated entrance, and it’d take more than one person’s applied strength to open it.” Katalene stepped out from the tents’ confines and before the hot sun, it was difficult for her to infer how long she’d been out, but it wasn’t as though she cared enough to ask.

“How do you intend to proceed from here? The Sanctuary is now the graveyard of hundreds of men and women. What’s next?”

“I never really thought I’d get this far,” Katalene confessed, retracting the blade back into her gauntlet.

She held the end of the scarf around her head with intentions of taking it off.

“I would suggest not removing that until we have the proper bandaging and medical supplies to take care of it. Also, considering where you spent the last few hours, I think disinfecting your wounds should also be at the top of our priority list. I can fly us to the Tomb of Alemay and we can make use of the medicines, I can tell you which plant does what.”

“You can fly me there,” Katalene mumbled to herself. “Your wings look pretty fashionable, if I must say, were you saving them for a rainy day?”

“When my last Master died, I regressed from disuse, my wings crawled up beneath my skin. However, when The Man with the Knife cut at you, I felt a deep emotional strain that brought them back out again.” Sol explained.

Katalene took in what he said but couldn’t think of a playful comment to retort back with. Instead, she opted for honesty, “I don’t know what we do next. If I return to Wilson and inform my Uncle Morgis about The Sanctuary’s existence, he and his crew will come, and they can help take care of the Sensations and The Targets. I’d like for them to be honored and respected, in some way. After all, look at all they’d been through in his fort.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Sol countered, wondering what the kicker was.

Sol stamped his feet into the sand beside Katalaene, having to noticeably slow his pace in-order to not travel too far ahead of her.

They roamed The Sanctuary for a times. The appearance seemed different, yet, at the same time, unchanged. The lack of civilians was odd, above all else. The fact that no matter what Katalene did or where she felt, nobody would stop her or try to restrict her. Most of the dead bodies were found at the entrance of the fort. That’s where the ritual went on, after all, and that’s where they made their attack. The fact that all of them were fatigued and scared made it likely for Sol to have killed most of them. Even still, every couple turns, Katalene went from one street-way to the next, the buildings all had the same ordinary and plain look about them. It seemed like none of them came for the décor or scenery that it offered.

On occasion, Katalene would find a small trail of blood that almost inevitably led to a dead body. It was a testament to the will of man how far so many of them were able to make it. One individual had his leg bitten or ripped off by Sol and managed to crawl at least a quarter of a mile away from the entrance-way before he bled out.

Katalene almost smiled at the morbidity of the thought, what that individual must have been feeling as they crawled. They had to have known, on some level, that there was no chance they would be able to make it out alive. They crawled entirely to avoid a worse death.

The buildings looked so very boring and indistinct, that is, until Katalene saw a trail of blood that led fourth several yards. The blood trail was clearly visible in the sand, she followed it with eagerness of finding the corpse that caused it. However, as her eyes followed the trail, they led up granite steps that went up and up to a large building, one that Katalene could only think to refer to as a church. After all, that’s how it looked, with painted glass walls depicting angels and Gods, nay, most certainly, it depicted the Pharaohs during The Trials of Calpera.

“I will search this area, Sol, I would like for you to continue searching for the person that attacked me. Don’t kill them, but, if you must, restrain them, then, inform me once you do.” Katalene instructed.

Sol nodded his head, showing he understood. Katalene walked up the stairs, she stares down at the blood that spilled down on them. Whoever had come this far had lost a lot of blood. In what was, most likely, their last moments, what made them compelled to come here?

Katalene theorized on the answer herself. A church was a place of God, and God was what most everyone thought of as they approached their death. The person had wanted to feel as close to him as possible. To appease the Lord in hopes that paradise awaited.

Katalene shoved open the heavy oak doors and peered inside. The confines were not quite what she had envisioned. Then again, it wasn’t as though she had any expectations for what The Sanctuary’s church would look like, she had assumed The Sanctuary itself was a place of worship and indulgence.

At first sight, it reminded her of a museum of some kind, or an exhibit. Canvas’ on wooden stands were to her left and right, lining both sides, the paintings were colorful illustrations, to say the least. There was an assortment of chairs, pews, Katalene supposed, and a wooden podium at the center of it all, slightly elevated by a small stage.

The blood on the carpet could hardly be seen. The light from the windows gave her sight, but the carpeting being a reddish brown, maroon color, the trail was difficult to distinguish.

The illustrations to her left and right gave off an eerie and haunted aesthetic. The depictions were of men and women, perhaps. Though, saying they were demons was just as applicable of a description of them. Individuals whose faces had been carved and mutilated in unique ways, their skin was a darkish red color that seemed like it glowed. One individual’s mouth had its cheek bones severed off, fully exposing his teeth. Another was missing their eyelids, providing a stare that always looked attentive and interested. Some weren’t simply faces, however. More like the blueprints for experiments, one of the paintings illustrated a man whose arms had been severed off. Nubs were all that was left, but, from behind him, six arms prodded out, like they had been stitched and sewed onto his back. Elongated limbs were also illustrated, arms that looked much longer than what was possible, unless, of course, they were stitched to the limbs of others to create the same result.

The illustrations sent only a small shiver up Katalene’s spine, by now, the threshold for what she could pay witness to had increased. Hundreds of dead bodies laid in The Sanctuary by her ordering, it was a little late for her to become squeamish. It might have been a little late, but that was how she started to feel the longer she stared at them. Her encounters with The Hallow had happened so unexpectedly and instinctively that she didn’t have time to think about what was done. Now, however, she looked at it all and felt squeamish. Shear had mentioned a man to her, a man named Dr. Rindon that conducted experiments and lobotomized patients. Is this what the man contributed?

Katalene walked upward toward the podium and looked at the piece of parchment that rested atop it, a letter that was signed with Shear’s name on the bottom, or would calling it a speech have been more accurate of a description? She brought the piece of parchment in her hands, the words scrawled on black ink, and started down the small stage. This was a place of worship, perhaps not for the visitors of The Sanctuary, but most definitely The Hallow members themselves. These illustrations that surrounded her, these were depictions of their concoctions, of what was likely done or would be done.

Katalene found herself seated at one of the pews, holding the parchment in her hands. “What appears like a show of strength of God’s wrath, is the casualties of his search. Midwestern civilizations like Maharris, they find refuge under The Aeonian, they call it God’s love. That, during the hardships of Calpera, five angels went and sacrificed themselves to end the heart-ache. As I don’t have to tell you, this was not the work of God, but the meddling of defiant children,” Katalene watched as Shear took shape at the podium, himself carried with stoic, undeterred commitment, fully dedicated to the words that escaped from his lips, every one of them.

“On the other-side of us, in the East, Zeal’s smaller villages in Tuncid dedicate themselves to what they believe is God’s expectations of them, working long-hours in fields, providing the stability and foundation for which society flourishes. That is not God’s expectations of them,” Shear said bluntly. “That’s much better than the places like Jerleak, however, that simply exist in mindless bliss.”

Katalene leaned her back against the pews, looking around herself. They remained empty, but the church itself seemed much darker, so much darker that she could no longer see the frames that concealed the illustrations. And, like that, they all seemed to walk out from the paintings. She could hear their breathing in-between Shears’ words, they glowed a demonic red within the darkness of the church.

“God doesn’t care about us surviving or about us helping one another, that is not his expectation. God is a chemist, working with elements that are far beyond what any of our minds have the means to comprehend. His work is complicated work, thrown down from Heaven, he yearns to create individuals like Calpera, his masterpieces. Like a scientist does, God wants to master his craft, we are his works. The Hallow is an exhibition, a showcase for his creations meant to help him find that masterpiece, and for that effort, The Hallow will reap the splendors of Heaven!”

“Carvers like Dr. Rindan,” Katalene looked around at the disfigured creations around her, were they meant as showcases for his work? “They search for answers in different ways as well, because God only needs the formula to right the ship. Rindan goes digging, knowing full-well that God is watching from above, trying to find the things that make each person tick, trying to help him, as much as someone so small as he can. God is not an arrogant man. God does not love us, but God does not hate us. Our Lord appreciates our assistance and rewards us for it.”

“God doesn’t need us to pray to him, God needs us to work for him, at the expense of anyone who comes in our way!” In Katalene’s head, she could hear Shear become louder at that remark.

In the darkness, surrounding by the red demons, Katalene felt overwhelmed. She knew then that The Hallow was much larger than she originally thought. This was more than a small and loyal cult, much more, but she knew not what else could be done to stop it. Dr. Rindan experimented on individuals, cut them up into pieces or severed their limbs, a smart enough man, he likely performed exploratory surgeries and deliberately poisoned and tortured. All in the sake of knowledge, she supposed. Nay, all in the sake of God.

In their eyes, God’s relationship with humans was a game, a matter of trial and error. Finding the ones that were worth keeping, disposing of the ones that weren’t. A game, Katalene shook her head at the very thought of it. How every person that was kidnapped and put into those buildings to be raped and murdered could not matter to God. That these were collateral damage, that he was discarding them one-by-one, in hopes of a better hand.

“A game,” Katalene said out-loud to herself, letting the piece of parchment drop down to her lap while she looked around the empty church.

“Katalene,” Sol’s voice entered her mind.

The feeling of a string clasped around her neck was what caught her attention next. Katalene flailed her arms, sprouting up off from the pew, hearing it knock over from behind her. Something was around her neck, with intense pressure being applied, and behind her, the sound of a woman grunting from behind her was evident. Katalene groaned, waddling herself about to yank whatever the woman was holding, out from her clutches. She walked herself over to one of the pews, bringing herself atop it for leverage, she kicked off and felt herself fall backward atop the woman.

They landed on one of the pews, though, not with enough force to break the hardwood bench. Katalene felt momentum roll her backward from off the bench, but, alongside her, the small framed woman followed suit. The woman wrapped her legs around Katalene’s stomach tightly as she continued to wrench on her throat with the string. Katalene gasped for air, grabbing at the string with her hands and trying to pry it out from around her neck. She could feel herself becoming weak, unable to apply force to fight back.

Extracting the blade from her gauntlet, she tried to swipe at the woman. Attempting to stab her in the mid-section, then, attempting to attack her at the head. The woman managed to keep protect herself in each attempt, benefiting from how weak Katalene felt.

The final seconds came when Sol burst through the church doors, breaking through them with harsh force. The noise was loud and from the simple shock of the fact, Katalene felt the string around her begin to loosen. It loosened just enough for her to stick the gauntlet’s blade through the hoop and cut herself free.

The woman, upon realizing the fact, headbutted Katalene from behind, then, released the leg-lock she had around Kat’s mid-section. Wasting little time, the woman pulled the dizzy Katalene back by her scarf and unsheathed a knife. Before she could act on her fast-tracked intentions, however, she looked back at The Dragon, who stood much too far to reach her in time and braced as a piece of hard-wood struck her in the head.

Katalene touched her blade against the woman’s throat, it wasn’t because she was readying an attack, but, because she wanted the woman’s attention.

The woman was hardly receptive, her teeth gnashed together from the pain and suffering she was dealt.

“You’ll be dead soon,” Katalene commented. “I won’t negotiate with you or ask for you to say what I want to hear, none of that will spare your life. You’ll be dead soon, and nothing can change that. But, was it worth it?”

The woman smiled, “I’ve served my purpose to God, you’ve only brought me closer to the paradise that awaits me. And, for what, you think you can stop all of us?”

“I have a dragon,” Katalene remarked, a smile of her own.

“And, we have God, and swords and arrows, weapons enchanted that can cut through that thing’s flesh like a knife through warm butter. Shadow Fangs and higher being warriors like you have never seen, that Dragon won’t be anything more than a chink in our armor. I’ll die, yes, but Shear, he is alive and he’ll see to it that you die and he’ll make it hurt.”

“So will I,” Katalene said, then, slit the woman’s throat.

The blood that poured out was thick. Katalene never thought she’d get used to the sight of someone’s life bleeding out of them or be able to find the will to take another ones’ life. And, yet, here she was, completely comfortable with both.

Katalene looked over to Sol and nodded, a sign of gratitude on her part.

“I found the woman,” The Dragon replied.

* * *

Sol led Katalene to the other side of The Sanctuary where the woman was still trying, and failing, at unlatching the gate leading out from the fort. It must not have been the only exit, however. If Katalene’s attacker was correct about Shear making it out alive. Either that, or it was a bluff and Shear was dead or hiding in one of the buildings. Katalene watched her for a few seconds, in time, she dropped trying to prop up the wooden plank that kept the gates locked and was trying at ascending up the gate walls.

“I have no intentions of hurting you,” Katalene said, making the woman flinch badly in-response.

The woman cowered down to the sand, her back pressed hard against the gate. It was clear that she didn’t believe Kat was telling the truth. Though, the woman’s eyes weren’t on her, but were, instead, on The Dragon Creature.

“His name is Sol,” Katalene said. “He isn’t going to hurt you either.”

“What do you want!?” The woman hollered, her hands clutching the sand beneath her as if she was half-thinking she’d dig her way to freedom.

“My name is Katalene and I am not so different from you. The Hallow attacked me as well, and had I not managed to escape from them, I likely would have been inside that same cage right there with you.” Katalene retracted her blade back into the gauntlet, an effort to show that she had no intention of hurting her. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know you’re probably scared, but I’m telling you now that they can’t hurt you

anymore.”

The woman’s eyes went over to the many, many dead bodies scattered around the sandy plains, as if she was only just now noticing them for the first time.

“You did all of this?” The woman asked.

“I wanted to stop them from ever hurting anyone ever again,” Katalene answered.

Kat walked closer to the woman, who tensed up and became more on-guard as she did so. And so, Katalene relented.

“What is your name?” Katalene asked as gently as she could.

“Meghan,” The woman fired back, her eyes carrying a manic, shocked expression that told she couldn’t fully wrap herself around what was happening. “Meghan Crabis.”

“Meghan, you’re in the middle of the Whispey Deserts, with no civilization for, at least, one hundred miles. From the looks of it, you’ve likely come close to starving yourself. If you left The Sanctuary by yourself, you would be dead in a matter of hours. I have food and water, I can get you to safety and I can help you.”

“How can you expect me to trust you?” The woman said, her face was beat-red, and tears streamed down her face in a hyperventilating spectacle of epic emotional proportions.

Katalene stared at her blankly. “Because, if you don’t, you will be food for the buzzards.”

3

Meghan enjoyed the edible plants at the Tomb of Alemay enough. Considering how little the woman must have been fed on a regular basis, that fact was of no surprise. Even still, there was a significant difference between her consumption rate once Katalene went and took some foods from The Sanctuary.

Katalene sat idly by and let her feed, after all, she didn’t feel like conversation in the first place. In a day’s notice, leading Sol, she was directly responsible for the death of hundreds of other human beings. It was a fact she still wasn’t able to wrap herself around. In fleeting glimpses, she witnessed the events in her head, again and again.

The screaming and commotion of the panicked crowd, the harsh, wet sound of rib-cages breaking in at each swipe Sol made with his tail. The blood that covered the sands were puddles’ worth, so much blood she could taste the metal on her tongue, and the shocked agony from what Katalene experienced prior only amplified the chaos.

Katalene felt the top of her head. Every now and again, she could feel something touching her, jabbing into her. The first thought was that it was the feel of Shear going at her with a blade, revisiting its trauma, but, more likely, it was the flab of skin hanging from her head that felt like someone else.

She used alcohol to disinfect the wounds. The burn as the warm liquid dribbled down the dried blood was a profuse amount. She bit her teeth against her scarf to keep herself from letting out her screams or shattering her teeth. The medicines in the crate didn’t have the most descriptive of labels, but Katalene knew she’d struck gold with anything that claimed pain relief. She made a makeshift bandage out of cloth to keep the wound covered and used the plants of The Tomb as a resource, pampering the cut, per Sol’s instructions.

Now, she simply sat leaned against a stone wall, alongside Sol, watching on as Meghan feasted.

Katalene felt the soreness of her body, with most of the torment being from the wound on her head. Something Katalene did not feel, above all else, that stood out as a distinct disappointment, was better. Emotionally, that is, she didn’t feel like her fastidious thoughts had been quieted. She’d never thought that by exterminating The Sanctuary every bad thought would shrivel up into nothing, then, leave her, but she had vaguely expected for things to be different than how they were.

“What do we do with her?” Katalene said to Sol in her head.

“I feel that this should be in your domain more than it is mine,” Sol answered plainly.

“And, yet, I ask you.”

“Why not take her back to your village? If they will accommodate her, then, she’ll get the help she needs.”

Katalene felt her thoughts slow down. Everything slowed down for, at least, a few seconds. In an instance, she felt as if she might as well have been back at The Sanctuary having her head gouged at with a knife.

“We’ll not be heading back to Wilson, thank you, very much,” Katalene remarked, asserting herself as much as she could inside her head.

“We won’t be heading back to Wilson. This will be our first time heading back to Wilson. As one of us has never been there, we can’t go back to it.” Sol commented.

Katalene glared at Sol with as piercing of a stare as she could muster. Sol simply stared back blankly. When she felt Meghan’s eyes on hers, she looked over to her, adjusting her facial expression accordingly, she smiled with an awkward grin.

“We’ll go to Jerleak,” Katalene countered. “Or maybe we’ll go to one of the other villages, they could help just as much as anyone in Wilson could.”

“Which ones’ closest?” Sol asked.

“Unimportant,” Katalene answered fast, knowing that Wilson’s village acted as an entrance to the Whispey Deserts, with long fields of crop and forests being their neighbors.

“How exactly did you come to meet,” Meghan began, taking a stop from her eating, she, at last, thought of his name, “Sol?”

Meghan hadn’t said very much on the trip to Alemay, she was leery about riding Sol and voiced her concerns, and she had asked about The Hallow. For which, Katalene had told her almost everything. That The Hallow was a bad group that did very bad things. She lied, saying she’d killed them all, for some reason, Katalene felt like it’d give her more closure than the truth.

“He saved me from The Hallow when they tried to take me.” Katalene responded, as, either a half-truth, or active concealment.

Meghan looked over at Sol. The Dragon Creature stared back with his emerald eyes and stoic demeanor. Even with Katalene’s ability to communicate with him, she always found herself wondering what went through his head. Meghan looked back at Katalene.

“God must have been watching over you,” Meghan commented, a grateful inflection in her tone.

Katalene sighed. “I don’t think there’s any God here.”

“I believe God’s everywhere, even in the darkest of times.” Meghan replied, resting the meat she’d been digging her teeth into on the ledge of the stone fountain.

“But, does he love us?” Katalene asked, finding herself asking a question she knew it better not to ask.

“Of course,” Meghan assured at once. “God’s watching us, but he doesn’t simply intervene. He listens and observes, loving the good and giving consequences to the bad in the after life.”

“But, if we’re all his creations, why do the bad even exist? Why would a group like The Hallow exist?”

Once more Katalene found herself participating in a conversation she knew wasn’t necessary to participate in, but she couldn’t contain herself. She couldn’t help but be bothered by Meghan’s words. The fact that Meghan, who had experienced an even greater taste of The Hallow’s wrath could retain her faith.

“We’re all different, intricate in certain ways, alike in others, and God has embroidered a linear path for each individual person. Events that are certain to happen, but it’s how we react to them that is our will. That makes them nonlinear. Do we fall victim to our sins or do we move forward? It’s like a game of chess, the game of life and our relationship with God. The Hallow lost that game and they will be punished for it.” Meghan explained.

It sounded like she had it all figured out, which made Katalene realize how much she did not. A game of chess, Katalene repeated in her head.

“They picked you up, what did they say to you? What did they do to you?” Katalene asked.

“I’m from Acera. And, I remember being there, I remember eating breakfast with my mother and I remember tending to my garden. I have a garden of plants, it isn’t anything, but it’s mine. I took pride in it, you know? All the flowers are probably dead now though.” Meghan said, a small sniffle came after that thought. “I remember I went for a walk that night. Acera isn’t known for many crimes, Verdicine, The Aeonian of Acera, sees to it that crime is discouraged. But, The Aeonian can’t be everywhere at once, it’s on patrol, floating around the shadows. Some say that King Harries himself commands it, others say it’s his right-hand man. It’s a smoky, shadowy creature. Or, at least, that’s what they say it looks like. Most of us have never really seen it up close. It can sense almost anything in the town, they say it can sense all forms of bloodshed. I don’t know what to believe anymore though.” Meghan rambled, however, Katalene didn’t stop her and allowed her to speak.

“I felt the man wrap his arm around my neck from behind. I tried to fight away from him, but he was too powerful. I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was inside of a small coffin-shaped crate with many other screaming people. None of us knew what was going on. I could hear hooves stomping against the ground and carriage wheels moving around. I could hear voices of children, just passing through wherever we were going, I screamed. They either couldn’t hear me or didn’t care. It had to have been the second, I’d think?” Megan said, tears running down her eyes.

“Never heard of a box where you could hear what’s outside, but not in, have you? I remember the first time they opened the door, by then, those in the casket got to talking, thought we’d all tackle whoever it was if they ever opened it. When they finally did, we tried to attack them, I remember one woman being slain with a sword that cut through with no effort at all. We all eventually gave in, I mean, they had weapons, we didn’t, right? At the very least, I remember the wilderness, then. They must have carried us all the way through Jalint. They fed us from time to time. They gave us medicine that made us weak, made it difficult for me to think. It also made me less willing to fight back. I remember on the journey through the deserts, every now and again, they’d bring a girl or boy out to fuck. They weren’t very private with their affairs, fucked them right by the sand ray with the other guys and girls cheering them on. One man took a liking to me. They all wore those scarves and hoods over their faces, but I knew it was the same person each time. He had a distinctive grunt with his thrusts and he called me by my name. None of the others did that. The others would just call me bitch or other slurs, but not him. One of the boys in the coffin with us eventually died, he had been raped by each of the men more than once. I guess The Sanctuary’s all about pursuing cultural taboos. One time, he came back and didn’t say a word, himself dripping with sweat, blood down his legs, didn’t say a word. It took us a while to find out he wasn’t breathing, and since the guards couldn’t or chose not to hear us, we spent the rest of the trip with him in there.” Meghan spoke, the big droplets of tears went down her cheek, her nose ran with snot.

Meghan rested her head down against the hard, stone ground, like she was hiding her face out of embarrassment. Katalene looked on blankly.

“There, there,” was the only thing she could think to say aloud. Her ability to comfort others or empathize felt trivial at best. The second thought was to mention that the Sensations had part of their brain removed by a doctor, then, were raped to death. Which meant, there was a small silver-lining to what she’d experienced in-comparison to others. That didn’t seem exactly compassionate either. “You’re safe now,” Katalene said, at last.

Meghan looked up at her, a small and weak smile on her face, “I can still see them, every single time I close my eyes. Them being dead doesn’t change that, just gives me their ghosts to haunt me.” Meghan laughed weakly at herself, it wasn’t much of a joke, but she seemed as though she was in hysterics, in a prolonged breakdown, and that’s why she laughed.

Meghan coughed for a moment, and then, another. Soon after, she vomited on the ground, blood, by the looks of it. She hadn’t eaten the poisoned food, the fact she existed was proof of that fact, or, at least, it was proof she hadn’t eaten large enough for it to be fatal. Whether that was by decision or because the rest of those in the cage gobbled it up was unclear. By her skinny frame and malnourishment, it seemed easy for her to be thrown off to the side and forgotten.

“Are you alright?” Katalene asked, standing up from her seated position and walking over to the woman.

Meghan continued to cough and gag, until, once able to, she looked up at Katalene, who could see the shine of sweat from off her. Kat touched her hand to Meghan’s forehead, she could feel the hotness of her fever. How long had she been suffering from it without Katalene noticing?

“Sol, she’s burning up, what can we do to help her!?” Katalene asked.

Katalene leaned over away from Meghan and cupped a small bit of water in her hands from Alemay’s fountain. She coolly rubbed it over the back of her neck. She could feel Meghan shivering in response to it.

“The woman is badly ill, more ill than either of us has the ability to care for. She has been malnourished for days and days, has been in the dark, not to mention the diseases and infections she could have got while inside of that cage. Which place is nearest has now become relevant for us, Katalene.”

Katalene looked up at Sol with pleading eyes, but the eyes he offered in-return weren’t empathetic. The trip through the Whispey Deserts alone could very well spell out the death for Meghan, if they took her anywhere, it had to be to Wilson.

4

The woman left consciousness soon, and it was left for Katalene to settle her inside Sol’s saddle. The back of the pouch fitted them both like a baby kangaroo, just in the back and not the front. The woman shook and convulsed from time to time, an act that Katalene appreciated, if only because it let her know for certain she was still alive.

Sol flapped his wings, sending a wave of sand around their line of vision. As he found himself taken in the air and Katalene found herself more comfortable and zealous, she climbed higher up on the saddle and peeked out over Sol’s shoulder at the Desert beneath them. The sight felt unreal. They were so high in the air, she felt the wind blowing her hair back, and some hundred feet below, while the Whispey Deserts didn’t look small, it certainly appeared less empty than before.

Katalene could see the bumpy ridges of the sand mountains and could see dark-shaped objects, either rocks or the remains of tombs, or, as Sol stood proof to, something else. Sol’s wings flapped loudly, going up and down, the sound, for some reason, reminded her of her childhood. For some reason, that’s the first thing she thought of. She thought about late nights when the storms were fierce, the sound of the sheets over the windows to keep the rain and wind out. That’s what the sound of his wings reminded her of.

Sol sped fast, traveling miles in a much faster time than he had been able to do on foot. Even with all the distance between them, they had the chance of being at Wilson’s by nightfall. Every convulse from Meghan’s body made Katalene only hope that they’d be there fast enough.

5

The Whispey Desert’s end was only a couple hundred feet from where The Dragon landed. As Katalene freed herself from out the saddle, propping Meghan’s arm over her shoulder and assisting her out as well, she took a long look at what was before her. In what felt like, for so long, an endless sea of sand, waves of grain stilled into position, Katalene was now able to take sight of land. The feeling made for a strange one. It was only a short walk distance away and, then, she was free. She had survived the adventure and made it to the other-side. Albeit, she had survived without her brother. She ignored that thought, pressing it down into the back of her mind where it belonged. The objective now was to walk Meghan to Wilson and give her the care she needs.

She instructed Sol to stay in the desert, told for him to stay in the desert, free to explore, letting him know she would very soon be back for him. Bringing him to Wilson, however, that was something that she could not bring herself to do. Sol would be cast out as an abomination, knowing Wilson like she thought she did, and should Sol fight back, it’d leave her village massacred. The sight of that didn’t strike her as very appealing at all.

Instead, she bid farewell to The Dragon Creature for the time being, her body sore and sensitive, but, with all the might she could muster, Katalene carried Meghan the rest of the way through the sands. The change in temperature had been imminent much before they had landed, it was at least a little cooler, but by the time the ground went from sand to dirt and green grass, Katalene felt a sense of great relief.

She walked onward, her eyes merely admiring the scenery around her, it wasn’t long before the barns and Wilson’s large silos. Meghan seemed mildly attentive, she offered whatever support she could with her walking and Kat could hear her breathing heavier. Each step felt heavier than the last, but, in time, several civilians took sight of them and ran over.

Katalene recognized them, there were three. She knew them not by name but had seen them around many times. An older man and woman, maybe a couple, maybe siblings, she always associated the two for some reason or another, and a youngish man who was shirtless, though, covered heavily in dirt. Katalene felt the weight of Meghan’s body being taken off her, the youngish man carrying her, she also felt the old man and old woman assisting her with each step, spouting comments of assurance and comfort.

Home.